


Silhouettes

by Kiwiabell



Category: South Park
Genre: 1st POV, Anxious Tweek, Confusion, Friendship, Gay, Growing Up, High School, Humor, M/M, Romance, Unreliable Narrator, angsty craiggo, bisexual??, butters/kennny, craig x tweek mainly, determining sexuality, friendships, high school seniors, i think it's funny, i tried to make a Kenny different from cliche fic versions of him, mostly fluff and humor, nichole/token, other couples included but these tags confuse me, probably no angst, stan/wendy, strip club, tried to keep them in character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-20 05:57:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13711311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwiabell/pseuds/Kiwiabell
Summary: Craig and Tweek take a dive into a never ending adventure of pet shopping, strip club escapades, tattoos, drinking, denial of emotions, and the realization of what the happiness and horrors of first love can do to you. The fun part of senior year, except this time with two questioning young men trapped in a small podunk mountain town known as South Park.





	1. Devil May Cry

**Track: Devil May Cry by the Weeknd**

#  CRAIG

* * *

 “People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out but when the darkness sets in,their try beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.” **-Elisabeth Kubler-Ross**

* * *

The idea of adventures made death seem appealing. Perhaps that's because I was a cynical bastard.

That's why I had distaste for my senior year of high school, the most anticipated year of school which could also be the most stressful for exemplary academic overachievers. Fortunately for me, college wasn't anywhere near my plans. Not in the near future anyways, because honestly fuck that extra school bullshit.

Sure one might need a basic college degree to make a decent earning to pay nasty adult necessities like taxes or whatever else there may be. However, until I absolutely needed more years of schooling, I personally planned to live out of my parent's house, dining off of pizza rolls and hot pockets like I've been doing the my past seventeen years. And honestly, it didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Don't get me wrong, my life wasn't complete shit. I had a decent family which consisted of a hard working father, house wife mother, and a little sister. You know the cliche American family, picture perfect. Despite the fact that my father, shown by his evident beer belly, had a slightly (large) drinking problem.

Laura Tucker, my mom, played the role of the loving wife and mother, with exceptions. She always gave attitude complaining about every task she had to do that none of us would. I mean she devoted her life to clean and cook so what did she expect of us?

My little sister, Tricia, wasn't exactly the straight 'A' perfect daughter, but in comparison to me she was pretty much better than I'd ever be.

Despite our different interests and isolated attitudes towards each other, my sister and I somehow got along.

The strawberry blonde was currently going through a phase of wanting to be left alone to her own device and "friends", but I always made attempts to irritate her to see her priceless reactions .

I always made an effort to slip into her room whenever she was facetiming one of her young pre-teen friends, and I enjoyed laying on her bed, dying of laughter every time her small sticks for arms would attempt to shove my tall body off her tickle-me-pink bed sheets.

Besides my family, I had plenty of friends around my age. There was Clyde, Token, Jimmy, and Tweek, whom I'd always managed to hang around with since about 4th grade.

Although, I noticeably wasn't the most social butterfly in the garden, I always had the issue of glancing at my dry phone for any notifications besides about the one update I'd be ignoring for weeks. So I guess you could say, yeah I was a "loner" and I really wouldn't have mind some company to fill my solo wolf heart. If you were desperate enough to even say that.

I prefered saying I was alone and quite happy with that. I could deal with my loser friends for such an extent of time before I needed to find some silence.

Yet somehow, I found myself walking through the messy, most likely shitted upon, aisles of PetSmart with my petite blonde friend who had offered the idea of a pet as a solution to my so called "loneliness."

I took a deep sniff of the actually shitted upon heavy scent of the store, dying inside upon the heavy scent of feces filling my nostrils. The only thought going through my brain was why in the world had I agreed to come to a pet store. At eight fucking pm, nonetheless, when my favorite show in the world was currently on.

I glanced over at Tweek, who was walking beside me, twitching due to his over caffeinated system. He had this deal where unless he was hyped up on espresso, he just couldn't function well. Just watching the poor coffee bean shake made me a little anxious myself, mostly out of pity. After all these years, I was hardly phased.

The only reason I was in that position in the first place was because the blonde had texted me offering a solution to my introverted loneliness: a pet. Maybe it was because I was feeling a little lonely or the lack of an excuse to get out of the situation, that I ended up picking up him up and driving us both to the store.

He always dressed like he was a malfunctioning robot. He tended to wear thin, baggy shirts that swallowed his short figure. He weighed a bit more than me, but his pale skin showed through his incorrectly buttoned shirt, making him look ghostly.

Tweek always looked... well certainly not pleasing, but don't get me wrong, he was kind of harsh around the edges. Basically he appeared like art, meaning he was unique, detailed, and open for personal interpretation.

He'd always made me feel like I should protect him, to wrap my jacket over his frail, shivering body. He wasn't necessarily helpless, a little awkward. His parents had chosen to fill him up with espresso to calm his ADD behavior, but it only ever revealed to make him more spastic.

He had always been one of my closest friends, despite how little we actually had a conversation. However, when he asked for a favor I could never say no. I never gave fucks about a lot, except when it came to my friends.

Now here we were, hands stuck into my blue hoodie pockets, eyes glancing from under my warm chullo to look at the lines of cages and cases of animals of different varieties.

"L-look Craig-Ack! That cat there looks just like you." The male beside me stuttered, pointing towards a wooden box holding a small black adult cat laying back against the confines of the room. The pet had a facial expression of absolute boredom and discontent, a resting bitch face, similar to my usual expression, That caused me to feel the animal's own regrets and self loathing through their piercing green eyes.

"Shut up, Tweek, I'd be pretty pissed too if I was trapped behind a glass." I muttered, glancing at the other cats and dogs along the aisle.

None of the animals really caught my interest. My parents weren't very keen at the idea of a pet ever in our lives, so a large pet wouldn't really be the best idea after all. My sister had always begged to have a puppy, but I knew regardless that I'd be stuck being the one to dish out the cash for expensive large bags of dog food and puppy pads until the animal was potty trained.

Everything seemed like a huge hassle. I could barely take care myself on a good day, much less another living being.

We continued walking along looking at each case one by one viewing its inhabitants. Each one earning a subtle side comment from Tweek as we examined each creature.

"What's in here?" The shaky boy inquired, leaning in close to the glass of the small domicile with an apparent reptile living in a dark themed case with many plants.

I leaned in myself, to try and see what indeed was living in the mini ecosystem only to catch a sight of a small bug.

"A cricket? Why would a cricket live in a place like this? Unless-" I was cut off immediately as a small reptile appeared only to catch the smaller animal upon its tongue, resulting in the anxious teen beside me to jump in surprise with a slight shriek.

Having been accustomed to the odd reactions, I only slightly jumped myself before letting out a light chuckle.

"Maybe I should get a lizard," I announced only to be thrown a flabbergasted expression.

"Oh Jesus man, that's too much to worry about! They're so gross and shed their skin. The only thing that you'd have in common is the fact you're both cold blooded." Tweek explained earning another chuckle from me, as we continued walking.

At the beginning of the next aisle were cases filled with smaller rodent type animals that immediately piqued my interest. When thinking of a pet, I'd always instantly pictured a simple cat or dog. However, I've never stopped to consider an animal that I could keep in a little cage.

My green eyes skimmed over the names of different creatures within temporary homes. They held different signs reading various types of hamsters, gerbils, mice, rats, and other rodents.

On the outer corner held a large container with two small colorful igloos. Out of curiosity, I bent down a bit to peek into the small shelter to see the creature inside. It was a small little white, black, and brown striped animal that I could only assume was a guinea pig without reading the label.

"Do you like the guinea pig?" Tweek inquired beside me, confirming the type of animal we were viewing.

"Yeah, but what does it do?"

Upon hearing his question, an employe with long brown hair practically skipped over to us bright customer friendly smile adorned her face.

"Great question," the young woman began, moving the shelf to unlock to cage from the back. "Guinea pigs are my absolute favorite animals, they are much more social and calm than all the other rodents. They're basically like a small cat or dog." She said with a voice so sickeningly sweet, I felt concerned.

The worker picked up the exact one I'd had been gazing at, gently, dismissing the other few pigs in the cage. She clutched it to her chest as it slightly struggled trying to escape from her grasp.

"They can eat fruits and vegetables, but most of their diet consists of hay. Although they do lack vitamin C, as humans do. Due to that, they need to be given vitamin supplements or given an orange to provide them the nutrients."

Upon hearing the new information, Tweek and I both shared an unsure glance looking for a response from the other to confirm if we should indeed take the animal.

"Would you like to hold her?" The employee asked, holding the small creature out towards me.

The offer was very tempting, seeing as the little guinea pig looked like a big cuddly cotton ball. It would be rude of me to refuse.

Almost upon instinct, I reached my arms to take the small animal into my palms. I copied the woman's previous actions in clutching the creature to his chest tightly.

The guinea pig struggled uncomfortably in the new set of arms it was placed in, spreading its claws in search of stability. Each movement, making it's claws sink into my chest and arms. After it settled down, it nuzzled its soft head comfortably into my grip. With my free hand, I slowly petted the smooth fur watching as it slightly shed tiny hairs onto my hoodie and hands.

The blonde watched as he furrowed his brow in thought, probably considering the guinea pig. Upon seeing the small creature I was already content and sure of my decision, but any animal came with a bunch of responsibilities. That was the one long list that would be the hardest part to get the hang of.

"Is it a boy… or girl?" Tweek asked blinking hard, looking between the employee and I.

"We only carry girls here, so they won't mate." She said with a slight smile, which for some reason caused a small blush to cover his cheeks in embarrassment.

"Well I like her," I said happily with a wide smile revealing my elated attitude.

I had no clue as to why I was so thrilled over something so small, but the feeling the guinea pig's raspy little breaths and heart race against my hands seemed to have awoken something within me. For some reason, the fluffy creature had already caused me to begin to feel like a whole new person.

I mean I'm not a an entirely depressed or angry motherfucker, but it did take a lot to make me grin like an idiot, like right then. The little fuzz ball had already dug her way into my normally cold heart.

We both looked at each other, and Tweek couldn't help but smile as did I. We had unanimously confirmed our selection with the animal upon first glance with a simple case of love at first sight.

Despite the fact that it was better to buy guinea pigs in pairs, we could barely afford one along with all it's necessities. For such a small animal, it required a shit ton of items and parts.

When we had first arrived at the register, I had the thought that I'd be buying an animal all by myself for my family to house. However, on the walk to the register with the currently boxed animal, Tweek and I had talked over the plan.

He had mentioned how he hadn't had a pet since his parrot died when he was younger, and he had been afraid to love a new animal since then.

Since the whole idea was to get me a pet, had been his idea in the first place, I coined the idea of us basically sharing custody of the guinea pig. He said that he wouldn't ever be able to keep it at his house, because his OCD parents would flip with all the space and mess required to house the pet. It apparently needed a lot of space to roam.

We had both agreed to keep her at my house in which he could visit whenever he wanted, and we would share the cost for her.

The price alone emptied both of our wallets as we split the money between the two of us. Either way, we both knew no matter the amount, the result of having a new companion would be worth it.

We spent about forty minutes alone trying to read the instructions to make the playpen in my basement and the cage on the dresser. Plus another few hours trying to assemble it, since Tweek was too jittery to help a whole lot. He was too scared of messing up or hurting me during the process of putting it all together.

After much hard work, at about one in the morning, we were finally able to kick back on the dark cement of my garage floor. We contently watched the small creature run around and popcorn in excitement of her new home.

"What should we name her?" Tweek asked, reaching out a shaky hand to pet the animal eating the hay in her pen.

I stared longingly at the guinea pig with a considering glance, shrugging in response after slight hesitation. I honestly had no clue as to what name could possibly encapse such a creature that brought upon so much happiness to me.

I was the last person on Earth to ever settle for some cliche name like Hope or Faith, though.

"How about Titty Sprinkles?" I inquired with a slight chuckle, thinking my clever name was obviously the title coming out of my mouth deemed it brilliant and worthy of our pet.

Tweek only responded with a twitch of his eye, which he pretty much always looked at me with. His expression didn't really give any indication of his emotions, besides the fact he didn't really find it amusing, seeing as he wasn't laughing.

We sat in almost complete silence, minus his nervous mumbling to himself, until the blonde asked, "How about Stripe? I-I mean she does has stripes, and it's a simple name."

I tossed a puzzled look with a raised eyebrow, "That sounds gay," I scoffed.

The blonde pursed his lip, turning back to the pet. Assumingly hurt from his name choice being turned down.

After a few minutes, I finally decided to say fuck it and agree with a, "Fine, Stripe it is." Since I didn't have any better ideas myself.

After our decision was made, I grabbed a sheet of wrinkled construction paper from the floor beside me and with a sharpie I wrote, "Stripe" on the sheet before signing Tweek and I's names under it as her parents. Once we were satisfied with the sign, I taped the paper onto the outer edge of cage confirming the name of her as if it was a birth certificate.

An "official" document to a moment of true happiness in my boring life, that I would have loved to remember for the rest of my life. The adoption of my baby, Stripe Tweak-Tucker.

* * *

I awoke to bright lights and pressure on my shoulder from someone beside me, making me question, where the fuck was I? I harshly turned to the right to see who it was beside me to find the face of one of my closest friends.

"Hey dude, we are here, get off." The brunette beside me announced with a slightly harsher shove.

"Fuck off Clyde," I responded hastily.

Usually I acted a lot more calmer to the poor dude, but I was known to get pretty pissy when I had less than at least seven hours of sleep. I'm sure he understood why the mood, because he was used to it by then.

I quickly slung my dark backpack over my shoulder and sat up to look through the window at the new surroundings.

Disappointingly discovering that I had just arrived at the long behold South Park high school, and I wasn't enjoying the sweet confines of my soft bed sheets.

My hand gripped the handle to the car door as our friend, Token, parked his fancy black BMW in the student parking lot.

Every few days we'd agree to carpool with each other in order to preserve gas, but the responsibility mostly fell on Token to drive since he was rich enough to afford a nice car. Clyde's, was basically a cheap piece of trash on wheels, much like him. It somehow made my own cheap passed down KIA look like the batmobile.

Once we parked, I opened the back seat door with a quick motion, jumping out the vehicle. When my sneakers hit the pavement a sigh of disappointment escaped my throat.

Whenever we took the richer of the three's vehicle, it was an official rule that we both had to sit in the back. Clyde and I always used to race to the vehicle in order to fight over shotgun,

We really couldn't help it much, I was a competitive son of a bitch and Clyde loved any sort of game. Unfortunately for him, he was chubby and always lost to me because his heavy breathing prevented him from going all that fast. Despite him being in athletics and me being a lazy fuck.

After constant losses, he cried and whined for Token to make me create a pact for us to both sit in the back. That was the only resolution that would avoid blood spilt over the passenger seat.

As the rest of the passengers exited the car after me, I stuck my hands into my pockets to calm the unending nerves caused by pretty much everything about the school day.

It was the first day of Stripe being home alone with me being at school, and every inch of my mind was worrying about he'd cope with being so lonely. If only we could have afforded to buy him a companion then I wouldn't have been so concerned.

To distract myself, I was focused on waiting on the sidewalk for my friends to catch up, before deciding to stick in earbuds to listen to a random choice of music.

With my mind preoccupied between the guinea pig I missed and my fellow parent of the baby, I just wanted to drown out my surroundings. That's always what seemed to make the day go by faster.

I listlessly thumbed through the many playlists on my music app before settling on a certain song I'd been singing in my head since I rolled out of bed that morning.

It wasn't like I had a song I normally sung stuck in my head. It was more like those weird instances where I was humming a song I hadn't heard in years, but it decided to engulf my mind.

"Dude, Panic! At the Disco? I know you pride yourself on your edginess, but your alternative rock choices don't have to be so cliche." A new voice chimed in from beside me, causing me to toss a glance to his left.

"Shut up, dude. I have this song stuck in my head right now." I responded to Token, giving him my middle finger before maxing out the volume on my device.

I wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but I still felt bad doing him like that. Sure, Clyde deserved my bad attitude from time to time, but Token was the saint of our trio.

I saw both Clyde and Token look at each other, probably about my temper, but I dismissed the thought. I'd think about apologizing later when I was more awake, if I remembered. Of course, we real tight so they didn't usually receive my rude side towards them as much as I directed it towards others.

Mainly my monotone and satire humor was directed at them, but they were more than used to that by now.

"What's up with him today?" The darker skinned one inquired with a raised brow.

"I don't know, he's been having a pissy fit all morning. More than usual at least." I heard Clyde mumble with his nasally dialect as we continued our path silently to the school cafeteria.

I dismissed their conversation entirely, so I wouldn't think of retorting and making the situation worse.

School was literally the epitome of all my most hated ideas thrown into a one large poorly built establishment. Labor inducing adults, excessive drama, and annoying people who could never keep their voices down.

The whole concept of public school could make anyone groan in frustration, and I rightfully did so every day I showed up. If it hadn't been my last year attending, and I had a choice, I would have happily dropped out in a heartbeat.

As I tuned out the world to the catchy and overplayed tune of Brendon Urie's vocals singing I Write Sins Not Tragedies, my lips slightly parted to lip sync to each lyric as if to distract from the scenery of rowdy teenagers laughing and chatting with friends. Everyone seemed so happy all the fucking time for no good reason at all, it didn't make much sense.

Maybe I was having a moody morning. Not that I was a moody person, I preferred not to care excessively about a topic that wasn't worth the effort.

If something was deemed pointless to me, then it automatically assumed a "fuck you." School had rightfully reached that level by my first day of kindergarten.

Once our group finally neared the empty cafeteria table we usually sat at, we were met with our other member, Jimmy Valmer, who'd been waiting for our arrival. He gave us a small greeting as we all took their respective seats at the table.

My usual school group included us four who were seated and Tweek Tweak. We all got along rather functionally for a group of misfits, I guess you could say. That's because we were all a bit socially awkward in our own ways, besides with each other.

Clyde Donovan was a try hard, who always ended up embarrassing himself in the process of trying to get a date than actually getting some. Ever since he was in elementary and his mom died of a horrific accident, he'd had an empty void in him.

He tried to fill his mommy issues with the thought of another woman, but for the poor brunette, fate had yet to be on his side with such a matter.

I always tried to help him get through the tough times without her by being by his side, but I couldn't ever do really much. I still tried to show I cared, nonetheless, even though showing love to friends wasn't my strong suit.

I did love the poor guy, no homo, he was one of my bestest friends and he'd always been there for me. Despite our competitive relationship and constant teasing of another.

Sure, he'd told us about the few hookups and girlfriends he'd temporarily kept throughout the years, and we believed him. Yet none of the choice of girls would seem to stay with him for long, leaving Clyde to feel abandoned once again at the end of each day.

However, he had the biggest heart in our whole friend group and was very in tune with his emotions. He was a brave soul, in the sense that he didn't let his masculinity get in the way. If the boy needed to cry, he'd let it all out without shame.

Token Black was the most level headed of the group, and that wasn't saying too much since our group wasn't entirely that troublesome. He was without a doubt the richest teen in the whole town, much less whole school.

Not to mention that his family made up half the population of African American people in the town, and the other fifty percent belonged to his girlfriend, Nicole Daniel's family. Which I had to agree was pretty sad, even for a small redneck town.

All in all, he was a pretty calm guy. He cared for all of his friends and classmates and didn't put up with any unnecessary crap. He is very intelligent and was willing to work hard in life. He has big dreams for the future, and a sweet and healthy relationship he maintained as well.

Jimmy Valmer, was about the last of the IDGAF squad. He has been handicap since a child, but to him that was just a trivial thing about him. His personality was half comedic jokes and the other half… Well pretty much one hundred percent cheesy and occasionally hilarious jokes.

He seemed to hang around our group from time to time, but sometimes drifted on his own or to his other friends since he was very extroverted.

They were pretty much all of my friends friends plus Tweek. The amount of things that could possibly explain the timid blonde boy, could write a novel itself.

He occasionally would hang around my choice of friends, but more often than not he'd wander off to be alone, that I was aware of.

He usually skipped lunch in the cafeteria to go to his parents' owned business to get some coffee and possibly lunch there. The blonde refused to be around so many people at a time if he had a choice. And I didn't blame him due to his anxiety with any social situation. It would be pretty nice to escape the annoyed and judgemental glances he received because of his odd outbursts.

Our "IDGAF" group were about the only people that didn't mind his obsessive coffee addictions, fidgeting, and stories of outrageous possibilities. We are all about the same amount of quirky, so we were immune to it.

I gave a slight wave as I sat down, throwing my bag upon the table. As the song on my phone finally ended, I quickly pulled out my device to skim through my music selections.

People tended to stereotype me to be one of the most edgy fuckers in the town, but honestly I believed I was far from that image. Sure I enjoyed some alternative albums as much as the next person, but my music taste was honestly so screwed up I couldn't even put it under a specific genre. I enjoyed anything from classical piano and indie music to a variety of musicals.

People who wore band shirts always seemed to silently piss me off to no extent, because half the douches didn't even seem to know how easy it was to listen to their music if they hadn't before. I mean, if you're going to wear the damn hoodie, at least try and listen to a song or two.

It was plain out dumb, but then again I viewed everyone that way besides my close friends. I wasn't an emotional dick, but I knew better than to give a shit about anyone who wouldn't care the same for me.

After selecting a playlist quickly, I stuffed my head onto my backpack to rest before the first period bell would inevitably ring. I essentially knew it was dumb to relish the few minutes before I had to get back up, but I craved sleep more than anything in the world at the moment.

All I could remember was the faint sounds of Clyde enthusiastically spouting about something and the bass line of my music before I fell into a much needed slumber.

* * *

Four periods later, I was back to the exact same spot for lunch. The few hours had gone by in a blur, with me barely remembering most it as per usual. I was so exhausted that I didn't even feel mentally there at school, just physically.

A slight shove caused my attention to shift from staring into the groves of the table to look into my friend's eyes beside me.

"Dude, what's wrong? You're more distant than usual." Token's voice calmly inquired with a worried expression. He always meant well, so I had to mentally tell my mind to tone down the exhaustion before responding.

"Yeah, just didn't get much sleep last night. Tweek stayed the night, and we spent most of it with our new pet we bought. Now I just feel beyond shit." I mumbled, willing my body to sit up from my lying position.

Just before he could reply, a loud startling noise shook the table. The group's eyes shifted to find a larger boy with his palms plastered down with sheets of paper as the source of commotion.

"Sorry to interupt your gay story telling, Craig, but I've got invitations for you all to come to the sickest party of the weekend." The large figure bellowed with a laugh.

"What the fuck, Cartman? You think we give a shit?" I immediately retorted, pissed about the gay comment the fatass had distastefully decided to include.

The brunette only wrinkled his nose in disgust at most likely me in general. We had always a very mutual hatred towards another for proper reason. Most of which included Eric Cartman's entire friend group of three others being the cause of every bad situation I'd been involved in.

They were the most annoying quartet in the world , and I knew better than to be pulled into their shit again.

"When is it?" Clyde asked excitedly, with a shit eating grin on his face. He was always one to jump at the chance for some fun and alcohol, because we hardly ever went to any sort of shitface party. We occasionally enjoyed a few beers, at most, while playing video games at Token's.

"Haha, well actually your whole asshole club can only come under one condition," the heavier boy said with a mischievous smirk. However, his comment didn't surprise any of us. He always had a selfish reason behind everything he did and asked for.

"W-which is what?" The last member of the party asked with a stutter as he moved his crutches to sit facing Cartman.

"If Token will play the bass on guitar hero for us."

The whole table went silent in confusion. Since when did guitar hero go in the same sentence of a sick high school party?

"Are you serious? Why are you even still playing that old game?" The dark skinned boy asked, evidently confused at the request.

He was a master of the bass, and everyone knew that for a fact. He hadn't learned until the larger male had asked him to join a Christian rock band in elementary, stereotyping Token to be able to play due to his skin color. He was correct in the Token's spontaneous ability in that scenario. Yet, playing the bass guitar and a fake one for a video game were a different story

" do it and you can all come. Trust me, my mom is out of town and we've got a good alcohol connection." The brunette said trying to convince the teens.

Clyde only looked between Token and Cartman's faces before making a puppy dog face at the richer boy.

Unfortunately, we'd all been influenced and trapped into Cartman's antics before and perhaps even enjoyed the creative games as a child. By high school though is when we finally became smart enough to avoid the group of troublemakers he was apart of. Including Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, and Kenny McCormick.

Although, poor Clyde was a sucker for any type of adventure and an excuse to escape his lonely house of just him and his father. I knew that's why the brunette would literally agree to even hang out with the douche trio than wallow alone at his house. You couldn't help but take pity of him.

"Dude please, you know there's a girl out there waiting for me and how I've been trying to get some ass before prom this year." The teary eye boy pleaded with a pout. His choice of words made me gag, with the unnecessary mental image.

I did my best to toss him a glare that Clyde would be able to easily read as, "I don't give a flying fuck about your horny ass."

"It's a Cartman party, the only woman who will be there is Kyle," I said maintaining an expression completely void of emotion. I gave myself a pat on the back at such a hilarious remark, insulting the Jewish boy's femininity.

"Fine, screw you guys. Forget the offer, we don't need a black member anyways." Cartman announced proudly without an ounce of remorse for the blatant racism.

"Shut up Cartman, this is why I wasn't going to go," Token groaned.

My stoic heart couldn't help but feel empathy for how the most valuable member of the table was acting, lifting a certain finger to the hefty boy.

"Fuck you guys, but Jimmy you should still come and hook us up." Cartman grunted, stating an offer for a selfish purpose once again. Obviously referring to drugs and which Jimmy always bragged about having access to, ecstasy specifically.

"Y-you got it, I'll be th-th-there." He replied, stuttering with a confident smile.

With that remark, the notorious fatass thumped his way back to his own table, causing the rest of us to be relieved of the literal weight on our shoulders.

Except for Clyde, of course, who was very hurt that his so called friends would betray his wishes like that. But he should have known that we were looking out for him.

There was a fine line between going to a party to drink and have fun and going to a douche quartet get together. If he wanted to get ahold of some alcohol then I would have gladly gotten him some bottles of whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he didn't go over to Cartman's.

"Dude, what the fuck? I told you I wanted to go man." He whined, burying his head in his hands in order to pout. He sounded very similar to a dying cat with his higher pitched monotone voice sounding similar to my own, but his sounded much more annoying when he went up an octave higher to complain.

"He obviously offended our dearest member of the squad, how could you let him do that." I defended with an excuse I made up on the spot, that was only half an exaggeration, to shut him up.

Token only sighed himself having been used to the racism and ridicule from Cartman for so long already. It was still sad to us all, especially since he wasn't the only other person of color at school. He was just one of the two black ones, earning the fatso's remarks.

"You're just mad that Cartman considers you white all the time and not Mexican." Clyde jeered playfully, changing the subject as he opened his backpack and pulled out a large lunch box filled with snacks he always brought from home. Each package and container filled with junk, it explained his pudgy yet sporty figure.

I squinted my eyes at the brunette, clenching my fists tempted to punch him straight in the nose out of a half joking and the other half annoyed mood.

One of my many pet peeves was being called names of which weren't even close to describing me. Not that I got offended easily, I didn't give that much of a shit. It was annoying to hear people be incorrect over simple facts .

Technically my mom was Cuban and Peruvian, which was the reason for her natural blonde hair. She tended to have the more light skinned, eyes, and hair genetics despite her heavy Hispanic background.

However, my father was as white as a ginger can get with his whole family about pure Irish. And what do you know, I was presented with a weird variety of genetics, a mix of the Hispanic and White backgrounds. My younger sister, despite originating from the same parents, looked like the picture perfect product that they would create. Shown by her fair skin and strawberry blonde locks.

Whereas, I was the exact opposite. I was the one to receive the heavier recessive, Latino genes that practically skipped my mom and were gifted to me.

I had dark coarse hair that had slight curls in it when it was damp and subtle waves when dry. As well as smooth caramel color skin with green eyes so bright that you wouldn't even believe I was apart of the Tucker family.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm not Mexican, dumbass." I relented, giving a hard shove to Clyde, almost causing him to entirely knock over his large bottle of root beer he had on the table.

"Dude, what the fuck!" The brunette hollered at the slight spill of the sugary soda onto his lap.

I let out a hearty chuckle at Clyde's misfortunate, because it gave me a mini mood boost. I sucked in a deep breath after the hilarity of the situation died down. The situation had made me immensely feel better and almost back to normal.

I spent the rest of the remaining lunch period laughing with my companions about whatever stupid shit we wanted to talk about. We had eventually came up with plans for saturday night to hang out in Token's house. Although there wasn't much to plan, since that was about an understood weekly occurrence.

His house was about the only place we'd ever really go to meet up at. Jimmy had decided he didn't want to go, convinced he'd be still hung over from the shithole party tonight. He never really came over anyways, it was usually just Clyde, Token, and I.

Saturday was the one night of each week that I looked forward to be myself without being in the confines of South Park High. If only the weekend could have hurried the fuck up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a new shit storm Creek fic written by my friend, Arianna, and I. We are cowriting this story to bring some Craig and Tweek fluff and some winkity wonk fun. 
> 
> Not 100% sure where this story will go, but feel free to stick along for the journey. My goal is to provide a (hopefully) non cliche story line and her goal is to provide the humor and good choice of diction. Plus keep my ideas in check. 
> 
> The idea is to update every first of the month or perhaps twice a month? Depends on your feedback and our schedules. Hope you enjoy reading, and feel free to leave a comment so we can get your opinions to help decide what we need to improve and if we should continue this.


	2. Not About Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Token proves that he really is 100% better than Tweek at even the one thing that can calm the poor blonde. And Craiggo brings his homeboy home to his fam where Stripe is viciously threatened. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be trying to update every other weekend, but I'm a lazy bitch sorry lol. Enjoy!

**Chapter Track: Not About Angels by Birdy**  

#  TWEEK 

One of the only benefits of South Park high school, was that the band director always left the door open in eighth period despite lacking an instructional class. It was the perfect time for me to slip in to be left with all the percussion equipment and I.

I knew it would be easier to take the class period in order to access the musical instruments. However, the whole thought of a group of either good or insanely bad musicians relying on you to carry the band was way too much pressure.

Just the whole concept of an auditorium full of people staring at your general direction to play notes that make the music seethe. It was a nightmare.

I really just snuck into the room specifically to indulge in the one activity that never failed to calm me on even the worst day, playing the piano. Something about playing the musical notes emitting from the instrument never failed to make me feel powerful of creating something so beautiful.

As I peeked from the corner into the dim hallway, I slightly picked up my pace on the way to the room I was anticipating. No matter how many times I'd go on same path everyday,I never failed to get anxiety of the possibility of getting caught.

I mean sure, I knew I wasn't exactly doing anything wrong. But what if the teacher caught me and yelled at me? What if no one was allowed to be in there and I got detention? What if I someone had damaged another instrument and they blamed me because I was the last one there?

My thoughts raced, as my footsteps echoed through the unlit tile hallway, towards the room. My haunting thoughts filling my paranoid mind.

Since the high school was pretty outdated and worn out, the walls in the establishment were turned from creamy white to a muddy yellow.

Military green dented and damaged lockers littered the walls, most unusable due to their broken hinges and locks.

I habitually bit on the outer loose skin of my fingernails due to the apprehensive thoughts flooding my mind. I peeled a bit of the pale skin back with my front teeth, causing a slight sting to emit as blood slightly started to surface.

Once I neared my destination, my eyes flitted up to peek through the narrow window in the door. The room was vacant and covered in darkness as per usual.

I took my thumb, moist with saliva, out of my mouth to slowly turn the silver doorknob and slip into the dormant room.

I immediately hit the light switch beside the doorway before sauntering over towards the large piano that sat in front of the classroom with various smaller versions lined up.

It was the teacher's personal instructional instrument that she often used for performances. Which I knew by previous peeks and attempts to enter the classroom at other times.

The sounds that emitted from that one in particular were so clear and marvelous. Everything my musical dreams consisted of, so of course I had to utilize it.

I sat down on the polished black bench, and sat my hands carefully on the specific keys that began the song I was intending to play.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my unending trembling fingers to focus on the melody I had memorized in my head.

As my fingers pressed down on the five chords, I inhaled a shaky breath.

I thought about all the hours of filling mugs of espresso and of classes containing me praying to any God out there that the teacher wouldn't make us pair off into groups.

I imaged the inhale I took symbolizing me accepting my constant social anxieties, and the exhale being me finally letting every reason for my outbursts to exit my system.

During my years, I spent about all of middle school researching calming methods. Some had helped me before I learned piano. Mostly affirmations that I could repeat to myself worked as a saying to sedate my jittering.

I hesitantly shut my eyes and repeated my mantra I had submitted myself to reciting in order to settle all panic in my system.

I am Tweek. I am fine. Everything will be alright. There's no need to feel nervous. I am alone. I am safe.

And god dammit if I can only do one thing in my life well it's play the fucking piano.

In that exact moment, my fingers immediately began dancing on the keys, everything finally becoming serene in my head for once.

Calm… . happiness. No more anxiety

Most with my faith usually chose to meditate to maintain balance of emotions and peace. Whenever I'd attempt that method, it always resulted in me feeling a rise of stress in my system causing me to subconsciously feel trapped. That emotion would cause my squirming and squeaking tendencies to increase.

After the age of ten, my levels of symptoms in me for an anxiety disorder had surpassed being able to be maintained by thought of puppies and delicate ideas.

However, that tranquil feeling always came to me whenever I'd play a classical piece on the grand instrument. Well that and when I'd take the first fresh sip of my beloved warm strong beverage on a difficult day.

I allowed my shut eyes to soften as I allowed my muscle memory of the selection to take over the movement in my fingers.

Suddenly a loud noise started me, causing my eyes to shoot up to the door. It was slammed open and figures came barging in. I immediately jumped to my feet and let a shriek emit from my throat, alarmed, thinking I was caught playing on the holy piano.

I saw a chubby football player speed in, making me assume he was going to try and beat the shit out of me. Not that I couldn't handle my own, but it was what came to mind.

It took a few seconds for me to realize it was only Clyde Donovan, one of Craig's friends and quite possibly mine as well. Although we never really conversed without the noirette around, and if we did it was just small talk.

He was a bulky brunette with a slight adoration for sports and Mexican food. He was a pretty decent guy who could be sentimental and sexual all in one sentence. Even though he was a huge softy who could crack jokes.

He wore his South Park High letterman jacket literally everywhere he went, but I never blamed him. I'd heard him complain about how much money he had to fork over to pay for the single article of clothing so many times. If I had to pay that much for a jacket, I'd expect it to have some healing or invisibility properties of some sort.

"Yo, Coffee Cup!" Craig said walking in nonchalantly, shortly after the brunette. Token walked in right beside him, giving me a slight wave in greeting.

He had a thing for calling me new nicknames every time we'd see each other, all named after coffee related titles, flavors, and brands. When he first started doing so in middle school it was flat out embarrassing. About freshman year is when I finally accepted it.

Craig Tucker was absolutely the real spectacle out of our small friend group. He had chiseled features like a freakin swimsuit model who posed for calendars, light brown skin, piercing green eyes, and wavy thick black hair he chose to hide under his poofball hat.

He was a pretty outspoken and opinionated person when he was around his specific friend group or cared enough to speak up. Otherwise, he appeared to be a stoic statue who wore a stupid hat and same blue hoodie everyday.

He was pretty cool with me though, because he never pestered me with questions or judged me.

Token was about as equally attractive. He had short black hair that was super curly. Since middle school he started cutting unique little designs into the sides of his hair and they always intrigued me. I never really said much to him about it, but I thought it was an awesome way he expressed himself.

He wore name brand t shirts that had simple designs and expensive jeans that put even Craig's skinny jean collection to shame.

His outfit that day consisted of a long knitted sweater and dark pants.

My eyes widened out of curiosity as to question why they were there. I mean sure I'd mentioned possibly twice as to where I'd go during my senior release period, but I never expected anyone to actually seek me out in the location.

"Oh Christ! W-what are you doing here," I stuttered.

My eyes shifted between the three males in confusion and curiosity, an anxious feeling poking at my chest experimentally.

"Woah dude, are you playing the piano? Hold on, let me bust out my trumpet!" Clyde announced, completely dismissing my question.

The jock ran away and my eyes switched to look at Craig in confusion.

Had something happened? Did I do something to piss them off that I didn't know about? Jesus! What if something already happened to Stripe and Craig had come to break the bad news?

I couldn't help the twitch of my eyes as I awaited to hear whatever reason as to why they were there for me.

"Dude, you wanna stay the night?" Craig finally inquired, breaking the silence.

His question finally calming my worrying thoughts of the possibilities, and creating new hypotheticals in my head.

"I-uh… Ack- I don't know," I instantly sputtered.

I had a huge problem of not full considering my words before they tumbled out my mouth whenever I was stressed. And my stuttering never helped the matter. Not that anything in my life ever actually occurred in my favor.

I waited for a response as I watched Token come over and sit on the piano bench I was previously occupying. He began to immediately play a tune that sounded oddly familiar. I recognized it as the Mario Bros theme, and groaned in frustration. He always had to one up me without even meaning to.

It only made sense that of course Token could play piano as well, but that was expected. He was practically the most talented kid in the whole school as well as one of the most intelligent. If anything he only intimidated me and made me feel very insecure.

I knew he could play the bass guitar, piano, violin, cello, trombone, and tuba. And those were the top of the list. I honestly didn't even know the difference between all of those instruments, but he knew how to play each and every of them.

I turned my gaze back to the chullo wearing boy for him to say, "Well you can come home with me tonight, we can watch Stripe, and then Saturday you can come with us to Token's."

I didn't mind the first idea, but I always felt weird when I was invited to Token's. It felt like a big deal to me to go over to the rich boy's mansion, and everything about his life made me feel so forgotten. I knew he was a great person who was really passive and kind, but we'd never been real close.

Not that I was super close with anyone at school at all though.

I wasn't like the three guys who could be chill with whomever they hung around. It'd take me two weeks to try and recover from one sleepover.

The uncertainties of sleeping at a new location only caused my mind to worry more than usual about possible negative scenarios. Not to mention the fact that if anything were to happen, the odds would be stacked against me since I had no clear indication as to be fully aware of all my surroundings.

There were so many reasons as to why I had such apprehensive thoughts about the invite.

I thought about if I had any plans over the weekend that I could have used as an excuse to get out, but he was aware that I only had to work Mondays through Thursdays after school unless my parents requested otherwise. I was too bad of a liar to say anything besides the truth .

"Uh, sure." I answered, instantly feeling bad if I were to reject the offer. I usually always did, so what would be so bad about accepting this time?

Craig only nodded in response before walking over the wall to lean on. He pulled out his device and began to focus his attention on it, making me feel awkward watching Token then begin to play the Mii Channel song.

Clyde came barging again only moments later, carrying a medium sized dark instrument case holding only presumingly his trumpet. He sat it down beside the gifted boy who was still playing famous songs, by memory, if I may add.

He took out the brass instrument quickly, grabbing the small silver mouthpiece as well. He slid the smaller piece within the trumpet, raised to set, took a huge gulp of air, and began playing his rendition of a loud version of All Star.

We remained like that for the rest of the period. At one point I'd wandered over to Craig to talk behind the loud notes coming from both the other two boys.

"Anything interesting happen at work this week?" He had asked me as he did every week.

Tweek Bros usually had a lot of interesting stories to tell, because maybe the fact my family was half bat shit crazy. My father could never shut up with the coffee metaphors and my mom was basically an angel who had a gift of creating the most detailed cappuccino art in the world.

"M-my dad has been complaining about a- uh. Um a new drink competition going on in the coffee business."

With each stutter or pause I did, I involuntarily cringed at my actions. Usually I wasn't so nervous talking with Craig.

"So he's been working hard to try and create- ack -new flavor or something," I said, my eyes shifting between his green ones and the others playing in the front of the room.

The noriette hummed in understandment, "That's dumb if he's doing that just for a competition. What flavors has he come up with so far?"

I blinked in thought to try and remember exactly which. All week he'd been mixing flavors, some stranger than the rest. I'd know because he made me try each one myself, and some caused me to literally choke on the amount of cinnamon or other ingredients.

"There's been maple bacon, crispy bacon, waffle swirl, and morning wood." I said, confident that I hadn't stuttered.

Until Craig's eyes widened and then a loud chuckle erupted from his throat, and he was literally wheezing for breath. It was amusing to see him smile or laugh at anytime, since he usually wore a blank face with an occasional forced smirk.

However, in that moment, I'd never seen the teen laugh so genuinely that I couldn't help my own lips tug up. Even though I was slightly scared that he was laughing directly at me.

"What the actual fuck are those coffee names? I feel bad for whoever had to try those." He said after his laughter died down, a small smile still evident on his face.

I realized thinking back on my words, perhaps there were a sexual innuendos attached to one meaning. I couldn't help but instantly heat up with a blush.

I was definitely not going to be the one to admit that a few of the new creations actually tasted pretty good, so I diverted the subject and we continued talking.

After awhile of being interrupted by the blaring music, the noirette had begun to repeatedly yell at Clyde to stop playing halfway through his third round of an out of tune version of the Jurassic Park theme.

Only for the brunette to whine how Craig was just jealous that he was the best trumpet at school. However, I was pretty sure he was third chair in junior varsity band.

Once the boys finally got bored, Token motioned for us to leave since he was ready to depart and drop us all off. We trudged our way towards his fancy car that I always felt nervous to be in, because it was so clean and I was a very accident prone person.

Clyde and Craig took the backseat, and I stood there in the parking lot very hesitant. Making decisions was always such a hassle for me, and I was very bad at it.

I knew why they always took their specific seats, but I had no clue whether to sit with them or in the vacant passenger seat.

Would Token mind me sitting beside him? Would he rather me sit in the back and out of the way? Would it be weird if I sat squished with the boys in the back.

I didn't exactly take up that much space as far as my size went, I was a bit bigger than Craig but way smaller than Clyde. My height constantly made me feel a bit cramped in the car in general, but not as much as the noirette since who was a few inches taller than me.

The driver looked at me questionably, waiting for my decision. I finally resolved to scrambling into the almighty shotgun seat since only the middle seat in the back was open.

It would have been pretty uncomfortable for me to make them scoot over or have to slip in between them. That would be way too much pressure.

The conversation on the way to my house was pretty light hearted. The rest of the company in the car, excluding me, were laughing about dumb shit as always, earning a chuckle from me a few times.

Clyde's passionate rants about the most miniscule things could never cease to make the other teen boys irritated, and Craig in such mood was quite a hilarious one.

Once we stopped by my house I hastily opened the door and ran inside. I reached into my backpack and digged around for my keys, feeling uncertainty as if they were wondering why I was taking too long. I knew they were my friends, but I didn't want to be a bother.

I ran up the stairs and emptied my school bag to throw a random selection of clothes in my bag. I'd spent the night at Craig's numerous times before, but it'd never been like a regular occurance.

I never understood how some close friends could practically live out of each other's houses. I mean I considered a lot of kids at school nice since elementary, and I had Craig, Clyde, Token, and Jimmy as friends.

I wasn't really a big fan of sleeping in places other than the comfort of my own bed though. I'd have some awkward sleepovers with Stan and his crew, the douche quartet, as Craig would say. But I only ever recently went over to the noirette's house nowadays or rarely Token's or Clyde's.

Once I had my bag of clothes, I grabbed my charger, most likely forgetting something as always. But my mind was clouded and I rushed out so they wouldn't have to wait long.

When I got back, I scurried into the seat and sat quietly as we left once again, this time to drop us off at Craig's house. I didn't really mind since I was the one to agree to come over, and I was slightly ecstatic to see our new baby.

However, I couldn't help the impending nerves clenching my heart and telling my pulse to speed up. It was just something about Craig's parents.

Don't get me wrong, they weren't bad people at all, but they were the exact opposite of what I was accustomed to.

His mom was a gorgeous women with bright green eyes like her son, and I guess she was the kind of women some guys would call attractive? I never really thought hard about it, because thinking of her like that would be disgusting to me. She was like in her forties or something.

She was a very opinionated woman who liked to stay home and tend to the house rather than go to a physical job.

Craig told me before that she used to work at our local bank until her husband got a raise to cover both their incomes. She then quit as soon as she possibly could to spend her days in relaxation under the title of house wife.

She did the cleaning, cooking, and other necessities but she was more of the, "man of the house." But I don't really like saying that because it sounds pretty sexist, so I'll say she didn't take anyone's bullshit.

Thankfully she was always nice to me when ever I'd visit or see her in public. She wasn't very affectionate like the others in the household, but she wasn't a bad person.

His father on the other hand was the complete opposite of mine. Even though the whole family down to the youngest had always had a habit of being vulgar with their diction, Mr. Tucker was the only one who could swear and automatically sound utterly pissed all the time.

To me he'd always seen like an old fashioned type of man who wanted to go to work, come home to dinner, and expected his kids to be orderly. I think that's why he expected more out of Craig than the boy offered the family.

He was the very definition of bulky, being the opposite of his scrawnier son. And he had a voice that wasn't necessarily deep, but more booming. Sure, I'd been a bit frightened by Craig's demeanor way back in elementary, but his father was the very reason I had constant anxiety in the Tucker household.

To put it simply, he was a ginger man with a weird ass haircut and funky side burns.

He'd never said or done against me personally, but it was just the idea of him perhaps that had always made me panicked. As if he could kill me by the glare of his eyes.

Craig's little sister was my favorite of the family. It had taken me awhile to get used to her sweet gestures and inclination to put bows in my hair as a child, but since then we'd grown a bit close.

Her and the noirette had a fake dislike relationship where they'd mock each other all the time and acted like they didn't care for each other. Although, I knew that they honestly did have a lot of love for each other.

Since I was an only child, I think I kinda clenched onto the thought of a younger sibling. That's why I really kind of latched onto the idea of being on good terms with the young blonde.

She was a cute teen with long hair she usually wore in a high ponytail or braids. She had fairly light skin like her father, and soft features that made her seem happy despite her sassiness tendencies.

She wasn't so much like other teen girls to my knowledge, wearing mostly leggings and sweaters wherever she went. Being a girl with simple taste in both clothing and interests.

Overall, I didn't have much of a problem with them besides the fact that I always felt Craig's dad was judging me from afar.

I knew a lot of people did daily; at school, customers, and people in public. It felt different with his father though, as for some reason I had to meet his expectations.

I couldn't even tell my friend how I felt though, because it was just my over exaggerated thoughts as usual. I've been told my whole life to keep them in, and I was always constantly battling to.

However, that's a whole other long boring story titled "my insecurities," and people's willingness to shut me down more often than help me.

When we arrived at Craig's brown two story house, we got out and I gave the other guys a quick "thanks," and wave before leaving. I held onto my bag and stayed a few feet behind the chullo wearing boy as we neared his front door.

I assumed he was too lazy to reach for his key or didn't care to, because he went straight to knocking on the front door of his own house.

After a few moments of an awkward silence, the door finally unlocked to reveal a petite strawberry blonde girl. Her eyes met her brother's green one's at first, causing a slight scowl to engulf her features as she threw open the door.

"Hey, douchebag. Mom said she wants her skinny jeans back."

He only rolled his eyes at her before retorting, "I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a better insult than that, you fucking leech."

She only scoffed in turn before Tricia's gaze shifted behind the tall teen to glance into my vivid blue ones. In doing so, her porcelain facial expression did a one eighty.

"Hello, Tweek! My favorite person in this shitty town!"

She practically squealed, shoving the taller teen aside in order to hug me. She wrapped her smaller palms around my back, pulling me into her small figure and smacking her face straight into my chest.

I stumbled backwards a bit at the sudden contact, surprised at first. I wasn't big on embracing others, because it always felt quite foreign to me.

However, I couldn't help but lightly rest my arms around her small back in return.

She always seemed so precious to me, even though Craig constantly claimed she was the actual satan reincarnate around him.

"H-hi," I squeaked at the sudden contact.

She let out a small giggle before releasing me and walking back into their quaint little domicile.

"Mom got me out of school to take me to eat today. We got McDonalds, and you didn't asshole," Tricia announced targeted at her brother who ignored her.

Her body bounced up and down, as she walked pretty gracefully on the tips of her feet. She led us into the living room, where she paused to toss Craig a dirty look before retiring to sit upon the couch to resume her television show.

I gripped harder onto my bag, to calm the uneasiness swirling at my palms urging me to squirm uncomfortably. However, the panic didn't prevent my eyes from exploring the semi familiar household.

Most houses in the town of South Park were quite similar excluding the lower income families private homes, such as the McCormick's.

The Tucker household was two story like the neighborhood except with three bedrooms and one bathroom. It was a quaint home, with the walls adorned of family portraits of each of the diverse members.

There held awkward looking family pictures with their children occasionally smiling in each frame, but more often not. As well as paintings and renditions of Jesus plastered around the walls.

The Christian figure could practically stare into my soul, and never failed to make me feel out of place as a non Catholic. I never questioned the abundant crosses, because of course I respected their religion and had no issue.

However, I knew the specific religious influence was based on his mother's beliefs more than the rest of the family. Craig had privately disclosed to me that he personally had questions as to all the details of his own beliefs.

"I believe that there is some higher power out there. How else could the world containing such beauty and art in the stars and nature have been created? Who's saying that a god doesn't exist."

Those were the exact words that had stuck in my mind for me to always recall upon seeing the symbols around the living room.

The Tuckers never missed a sunday morning mass for anything, and maybe something about the amount of dedication also intimidated me. Because my family didn't care for anything as much as the Tuckers did for their religion.

They had their own quotes and beliefs that revolved around basically only coffee, business, and family matters. I was the one to find my own Buddhist beliefs due to the my yearning for peace in the world.

My eyes glanced between the light pastel wallpaper and the big dinner table we were passing by to enter the kitchen. I could tell the noirette was aware of my uneasiness as per usual, but he never really seemed to mind. He continued his path, with his shoulders back.

"Hey, mom." He greeted.

"Hi, dear."

As we entered the doorway to the basic themed kitchen, there revealed Laura Tucker seated at the breakfast table in the middle of the room. Her attention was trained onto her device in her hand, with a book upon the tabletop under her elbows.

She had a listless expression on her face and in her tone, as her eyes glimpsed at us walking towards the pantry.

I gave her a timid wave, feeling a twitch shudder through my body involuntarily in nervousness as her gaze met mine. She responded with a warm smile and greeting.

"How was your day?" She inquired, returning to look at her smartphone in hand.

"It was fine, same old." Craig responded.

He threw open the cabinet beside the refrigerator to scavenge for presumingly snacks. My assumptions were answered as he retrieved a previously opened package of double stuffed oreos and a family size bag of doritos.

"Why are you getting snacks? You still have food in your room." Mrs. Tucker stated, catching our attention.

Craig raised a curious eyebrow, evidently confused as to what she meant.

"What do you mean?" He asked, passing me the chip bag to hold for him.

"The guinea pig," She said, a smirk pressing her features.

My eyes immediately widened at her answer. What did she mean? Stripe and food… Was she planning on eating him? Was that an actual thing?

"Mom, what the fuck!" Craig instantly hollered in protest, "Why would you even say that."

I flinched at the use of cuss words he included while speaking to his mother, but I knew she never really minded. It made me feel awkward overhearing.

She stared at him with intense eyes before a laughter erupted from her throat. Her reaction only seemed to irritate Craig only more.

"Sweetie, I'm only joking, even though guinea pigs are pretty good to eat." She said, in attempt to calm the fuming boy beside me.

Even though he wasn't completely acting upset, it was clearly shown through his eyes and eyebrow expression.

I remember reading that Peruvians eat guinea pig, or something related to that back in freshman world geography. However, that had been four years ago and I hadn't remember the specific spanish country that did eat the delicacy.

I didn't have a clear opinion on how I felt about his mother's comment, because I didn't want to be racist. Although I truly feared for the life of our new pet which I dumped five months of tips into.

He let out a low growl from his throat, before grabbing the oreos and turning to depart the room. His other hand held up a specific finger intended for his mother, as he stormed away. She returned the favor, stifling a giggle from her seat.

I gave a small squeak, before scurrying to follow behind him.

It's not that I couldn't function without him, but as long as I was in the presence of one of his parent's I felt comfort with him beside me. It lowered the chance of awkward questions and forced small talk.

I stumbled through the living room, anxiety bubbling in my chest as I walked between the young girl and her sight of the television. I muttered an apology out of habit, before turning the corner to the staircase.

Craig had already ran into his room in front of me, leaving me to bound upstairs after him quickly. His room was the last one on the right of the miniscule hallway.

When I finally reach my destination, I saw that he left his bedroom door slightly cracked open for me. I slowly pushed open the door, nervous as to what image would appear before me.

I knew that I'd spent the night the previous day in his room and what his bedroom appeared like. It was just another instance of nerves I couldn't prevent.

Once I could peek into the room, I was welcomed with seeing Craig's lanky body thrown across his bed with his legs hanging off the edge. His hand were stuffed into the open slot of the oreo package, as he shoveled out cookies to stuff in his mouth.

Even though he snacks like his life depended on it while he was home, he never seemed to gain weight. He was blessed with a metabolism only Clyde dreamed about.

I noticed the new addition to the bedroom at first glance, momentarily forgetting about our new pet.

His bedroom contained a dark blue space that a young elementary age Craig had established, but never seemed to have wanted to change. He had dark navy blue painted walls and light carpet.

A bed of baby blue sheets and a galaxy comforter was placed in the middle of the room with the headboard against one of walls beside his sliding door closet. For a fairly large room his only other furniture included a large black plastic desk on the opposite side of the room shoved against the corner and a tall dresser filled with wooden drawers for his clothing.

Well those and his mini foldable dinner table he had beside his bed as a makeshift nightstand.

An average sized thin tv and multiple gaming systems sat upon the dresser, which he usually utilized. Upon the desk is where we had set up Stripe's large cage and the rest of the creature's necessities sat beside the metal housing.

That left a lot of space in the center and sides of the room left for open carpet space, giving the room a really open aspect.

Old posters of spaceships, stars, and movies littered the wall, majority from elementary book fairs. Craig's old paper mache and cheap action figures hung from the ceiling by strings duct taped to the ceiling by his younger self.

The room basically screamed childlike, especially for a seventeen year old boy. However, it felt like I knew him pretty closely by seeing this side of him.

The part of Craig that said, "fuck society's view of how mature I should act and what I should be interested in."

His room screamed that he was just really a big dork with a love for finding something bigger and more beautiful than life already discovered on earth.

I wandered over to the animal's cage and called Craig over so we could feed the animal and spend time with him so the guinea pig could become accustomed to his new owners. Even though I was hesitant about the also squeamish animal, I knew Stripe and I both needed to warm up to each other.

The feeding and examining of the pet took us awhile, but afterwards we left Stripe run around the carpet as we sat against the bed watching and talking calmly.

We sat there for a few hours, chatting and playing with the guinea pig before his mother called us down to eat dinner after Mr. Tucker arrived home.

It took a lot of mental preparation as my heart raced, walking down the stairs to join their family dinner.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs to enter through the living room, my eyes immediately caught sight of the large figure of Thomas Tucker. He was seated at the head of the wooden dinner table with the same stoic expression Craig usually wore, except when his father wore the look it seemed more stern.

I flinched when I saw Tricia motion us over with a jovial smile on her face upon seeing me. It was honestly heartwarming seeing someone that seemed actually happy to see me. I wasn't usually that important to many people.

Mr. Tucker gazed up to look at Craig walk into the living room and gave us a look of boredom. No greeting or any amount of acknowledgement for that matter. A man of little words unless he gave a shit, much like his son.

We took our seats at the six seater dining table, with me beside the youngest of the family and Craig across from me. The seat between him and his father's was usually reserved for their mother.

There was a basket of rolls, a dish of green beans, bowl of mashed potatoes, and a container of butter with a knife. The table was set with a plate and silverware upon all but one of the placemats.

It was so beautiful to see the family have such a picture perfect dining area in which they spent time with another. My parent's and I usually ate together a couple times a week, if we had the time after work or if either of them even had the motivation to cook.

After I pulled my chair out and sat down, Mrs. Tucker walked in with a large plate of sliced ham for the family to eat. I personally wasn't a huge eater, but my tongue couldn't help but water at the sight and smell of the fresh meal.

She placed the china with the meat in the center of the table and sat between the boys of the family. We sat silently, watching her take a small glass of one of the waters she layed around the table. Once she finished she clasped her hands hands together in preparation to pray before the meal.

The other family members followed suit upon instinct, and I did so hesitantly. I didn't actually pray in which way the Tuckers did, but I was more afraid of being singled out for not doing the same.

The majority of South Park was Catholic with the occasional few of us who stood out. Such as Jimmy, Kyle, and I. But I don't think many of the adults knew about any other family's religions in town besides the Broflovski's and their Jewish beliefs.

"Tweek, would you like to lead the prayer today?" The blonde woman's called out gently.

My eyes raced up to look at her in surprise as all the family members looked at me for my response.

That request was way too much fucking pressure. What the fuck would I even say? Am I supposed to give thanks to something or just for food? I had no clue how things like that worked, and what if I offended them? What if they didn't want me to come over ever again if I messed up? What would I do then!

I looked over at Craig in a plead for help. He knew I had no clue as to what to do or say, and he knew I wasn't Catholic or anything.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, hopefully contemplating how he could help me. Since I was freaking the fuck out.

"Hey, Mom. I'll do it today since he's a guest." He said with a straight face, calming my spiked nerves immediately.

I mouthed a subtle thanks to him from across the table. His pursed his lips before taking a deep huff. I knew he probably disliked praying before meals, so it was probably taking a toll on his character to do it. I was honestly grateful that he offered and his mom allowed it.

"Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive. From thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen." He droned in his monotone voice, more void of emotion than normal.

I only watched feeling an awkward silence rest on my shoulders as we all began to dig into our food. We took turns shovelling helpings of each of the variety of the food choices onto our plates and digging in.

Most of the small talk during the meal was focused between Mrs. Tucker and asking her two children about their day. I was thankfully saved from even more stressful confrontations.

After the meal, I excused myself along beside Craig after saying thanks for the meal, and were on the way to make a break to retreat back to his bedroom when his mother called out.

"Hey, Craig. Come do the dishes."

He halted in his steps towards the staircase causing me to run into his back. I took a few steps backwards as he called back to his mom.

"Why mom, I'm not the one who decided to cook and use glass plates."

"Craig Tucker, get your ass back in this kitchen and don't give me attitude."

I only stared between the two family members in surprise at his responses to his mother. It made me feel very uncomfortable by being between them. I would do them myself if it got me out of the way of the tension between the two.

"You're the one who wanted to be a stay at home mom," he retorted with a whine.

His mother only stood in the dining room with her hands on her hips. She had a dark glare on her features intended for him, but it still made even me shiver in fear.

"You know what, fuck you. Go away," she called, stomping her way back into the kitchen.

He raised his middle finger in her direction, despite her no longer being able to see it. He then turned back towards his bedroom with me following suite.

As soon as Craig and I started running upstairs is when we heard the doorbell sound radiate through the house. It sounded repeatedly pushed, because the ring seemed to frantically go off.

Mr. Tucker called from the couch for Craig to see who it was, sounding obviously disturbed by the mysterious person's persistence to get in. The teen only groaned before backing up once again to throw open the front door of the house.

I slowly crept downstairs after him, curious as well as to see who their visitor was at the hour. It was around seven in the afternoon, if memory served me correctly, which meant it was already dark outside.

Once I reached the entrance of the house I saw the figure on the other side of the doorway. It was a panting blonde boy, bent over with his hands on his knees obviously out of breath.

His choice of a light blue jacket and his hair cut of shaved sides but with long tufts on the top revealed who it was immediately.

Butters Stotch.

He leaned his slim body against the door frame, looking up to meet our faces with his bright cerulean eyes. His facial expression practically had the expression of concern written on it. The poor guy seemed like he was chased by zombies to Craig's house.

"Fellas… it's Ken… he needs help."

He panted through heaves of breath. Upon his comment both Craig and I shared a look of utter confusion. What the fuck was going on and why did Butters come to get us of all people?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be greatly appreciated, bad or good. I hope you're enjoying this fic, even if it's just a couple of you. If at least one person enjoys this story like I do, then I'm happy to make at least one person's day.
> 
> This chapter is less edited than the previous cause my amiga is busy, so sorry for any mistakes. Thanks to the six of you who left kudos last chapter, I appreciate you :D


	3. Elastic Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In where Craig is overwhelmed by tiddies and Tweek begins to suspect South Park is gaining more gay people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking and hush. I know the song is overplayed but it has good heart touching lyrics. lol
> 
> Sorry this is a day (or two?) late. I had a busy weekend for the first time ever.  
> Unedited for now, but once she reviews it I'll update this :)

**Track: Elastic Heart by Sia**

#  CRAIG

  For years, the shitty part of town had turned less shitty and then converted back to... even shittier. There were still some updated remnants of popular food chains while also keeping South Park’s classic city restaurants.

  The whole downtown area included said food establishments and down the street more adult oriented businesses. Such as Skeeter's Bar, The Peppermint Hippo, and Raisins.

  The bar was pretty self explanatory, being where most of the older men or single desperate people of town went. Usually to find some sort of break with the consumption of beer and a masculine atmosphere. A place my father, as well as others spent most of their nights.

  Raisins was a whole story within its own. When we were younger it was more of a big deal to have little girls around the age of ten working there.

  However, after they tried revitalizing that part of town, the whole company was exposed for their child labor violations.

  That and their whole concept of over sexualizing young girls was exploited by media.

  The whole ordeal resulted in the age limit being bumped up to the minimum age limit for jobs, sixteen. Then they established an even more provocative work uniform that showed each of the girl's large, not even raisins anymore. Not that I really cared, it was just kinda gross if anything.

  The Peppermint Hippo was the biggest attraction of them all seeing as it was a strip club. The place consisting of a bunch of girls shaking their ass and showing some skin. Basically the whole place was sad excuse for what it was meant to be; the rundown South Park version.

  The DJ was like a suspected criminal of offences I didn’t even want to imagine. And the bartender was apparently some sad asshole there to sell his dumbass album.

  The girl’s were pretty much desperate sad souls trying to make some cash. I mean I couldn’t blame them since a job was a job and maybe some women were actually struggling.

  But the point was the strip club of our podunk town was a weird ass place that played the same songs on repeat while showcasing the same couple of girls.

  However, when Butters Stotch showed up at my house at seven in the evening I didn’t expect to end up at the Peppermint Hippo with Tweek at my side. The blonde who had suddenly appeared had immediately began sputtering about Kenny McCormick getting into some sort of trouble.

  Normally, I wouldn’t have given a shit about anyone from the douche squad or Butters, but I was half interested in what the fuck was going on. That and Tweek had began freaking out for the unfortunate one's sake, so I had no choice but to see what was happening.

  I began to regret a lot once I found myself staring through the tinted pink windows of the large building of fluorescent lights illuminating feminine silhouettes with large tits and asses.

  What the actual fuck did Kenny get into and why did it pertain to a goddamn strip club of all places.

  “Dude, where the fuck is he?” I asked, fluttering my eyelids so I could roll my eyes not so subtly.

 All three of us were located on the sidewalk outside of the establishment, with Tweek bordering on having an anxiety attack with all his excess fidgeting and Butters who was clicking his knuckles together in uncertainty. I was practically the only calm one, and even my sanity was on the border of being kept in check. Irritation swelling in my chest.

  “He’s inside, but the other fellas are over here” Butters replied shakily pointing towards the alleyway between the club and the nearby Italian restaurant.

  I took a glance over towards where he was indicating, to finally realize I could hear indistinct conversations under the loud hum of music booming from inside.

  Butters began jogging over to the alleyway and Tweek and I began to follow by shortly after, both of us heaving due to our slightly out of shape figures.

  “Goddamn he’s taking fucking forever.” A voice slurred with a lisp, as we rounded the corner.

  I saw who the voice belonged to as soon as my eyes ad  ed to the darkened alley containing several people. There was a group of guys each bundled in their casual jackets and hats, even if it was in the Colorado spring.

  It dawned on me who the people were as soon as my eyes ad  ed to the lighting: the douche quartet.

  Stan Marsh was shown leaning against one of the closed garbage cans, hands clutching his phone. He didn't seem to have much regard for what was happening nor where he was located.

  Which was expected since he was the most self absorbed of the group.

  The second of the group, Kyle Broflovski, was in the middle with a heavy grimace on his face. He was wearing his signature green Russian type hat he always wore, as I adorned my chullo.

  He was facing the large figure of Cartman who was currently wearing his beanie as well, but with an apparent aggravated expression on his face. He was staring straight into the bright green eyes of the ginger across from him.

  The group was just missing their shortest and most quiet member of the four: Kenny McCormick.

  The vacant blonde was beautiful in a broad context. Whereas Stan had sharp masculine and handsome features, Kenny looked like a boy band member but with plush cheeks. So he appeared similar to a gorgeous prepubescent boy, despite being a high school senior.

  The teen was the calmest of the party, so I had the most respect for him out of all them. His lack of appearance made me only curious as to where the hell he was, because I was okay with the idea of seeing him instead of the rest of the assholes.

  I had well deserved hatred towards Kyle and Stan since they were the ones who were self centered and cared more about what people thought about them more than shutting the fuck up once in a while.

  And Cartman was an overall dick with an explanation longer than the list of fucks I gave about anything.

  Kenny was a young perv who spent more time looking at porn and jerking off than talking to girls at all.

  But at least he was fucking quiet instead of trying to have a monologue every goddamn minute.

  “Well if you hadn't sent him in there, you wouldn't have to complain, fatass.” The redhead said glaring at the large guy.

  Eventually he caught sight of the three of us who appeared. His scowl diminishing only slightly.

  “Hey Butters, thanks for bringing him. Maybe he can help check on Kenny, cause the fatass’s fucking bet.” He said, venom spiked upon the insult directed at Cartman.

   Was he referencing me? I had no clue how my role came into the matter since they hardly gave a shit about me and vice versa. Unless it was some selfish purpose as per usual which was the only reason they ever cared for me.

  “What the fuck do you guys want?” I asked, with the most apathetic expression I could muster. I didn’t want the douchebags to feel like I actually gave a shit about them.

  Across from us, Stan only glanced up to look at us with a questionable expression. He apparently deemed us worthy of getting off his device for because he pressed the power button and slide his phone into his jean pocket.

  “Cartman dared Kenny fifty bucks to film himself getting a lapjob.” Stan said, walking over to his two fellow friends in front of us.

  “Yeah it was his fucking dumbass idea that will probably get Kenny arrested or some shit,” Kyle whined with a huff.

  “You guys are fucking mad he won't be able to pull it off because he looks fifteen. I'm glad I can keep my money.” Cartman retorted.

  “I bet you don't even have the money, assface. You're too lazy to get a damn job, and you only pull money with your dumb schemes.” Stan defended.

  Kenny Goddamn McCormick was one asshole who could never turn down the bet no matter the severity. The reason varying between being a dumb dipshit to needing the money. Or perhaps the fact he had too fragil of a masculine ego that he couldn’t turn down a dare. He needed every ounce of the “manly” factor as he could get since his appearance bordered on feminine.

  Yet filming himself getting a lap dance was one of the most moderate arrangements he’d ever made before. Some things he’d done in elementary made the current bet seem like a walk in the park.

  Tweek stayed at my side, as we both watched the scene unfold right before our eyes. When it came to the group of dickholes, we usually chose to stay quiet and observe rather than get sucked into their shit.

  We’d always done that since we were children, minus rare instances. It was an unspoken agreement. If we were silent perhaps we could avoid the excessive craziness.

  However, the blonde who had led us to the location was still clicking his knuckles together nervously, most likely concerned for his unfortunate friend. He seemed doubtful if he should join the discussion or not.

  “Fellas, let's let Craig go like we planned.” Butters had finally blurted out, catching their attention.

  However, I wish he hadn't said that. That meant they were going to try and actually get me dragged into their shit. I had no clue why, and I didn't want to know.

  “Oh right, Craig. We need you to go in and check on Kenny. It's been legit an hour, man. And you're the only one we know who can pass as over twenty one.” Kyle said, pursing his lips in uncertainty.

  “You've got to be fucking kidding me. Why would I help you douchebags?” I asked.

  It only slightly made me more pissed that they were making it sound like I was a grown man. I thought I looked my age, and I knew at least Butters was already eighteen, if not possibly Stan or Kyle.

  “Why don't you idiots do it?” I said, adding on to my previous question.

  They all glared at me in silent thought before Stan said, “Because I have a girlfriend who would kill me in a place like this, Kyle doesn't look that old, and we all know the half naked women would put Butters into cardiac arrest.”

  I had to agree that he had a pretty valid point. His girlfriend, Wendy Testaburger, was a very headstrong girl who let her beliefs and opinions control their relationship.

 I could practically hear her spouting how strip clubs demean the view of women, downgrading them to seem as purchasable objects. Or whatever the fuck kind of feminism argument she'd have to want to kill Stan over.

  And Butters was as innocent as someone in South Park could possibly be. He'd seen his fair share of shit as we all had, but he was the only one of us who could get up the next morning with a bright smile and pretend our redneck town was full of possibilities and hope.

  “Goddammit…” I muttered rolling my eyes dramatically so they could clearly see my distaste for the idea.

  I looked over to Tweek who was patiently staying silent despite having his frequent spasms he tended to get the more he was stressed. I knew he was most likely thinking of all the negative results of whatever shit I was being pulled into.

  “What do you think?” I asked, looking at the shuddering blonde for an answer.

  My own gut was telling me to scream fuck off and to head back home to enjoy my Friday night off of school. Yet the other part was saying I should go check on the poor kid inside the club, because he was the only asshole I would allow to not make me stab myself.

  “Uh-um… I don't know man! Kenny is pretty cool, unlike the fat asshole. But sneaking in and trying to find him is p-pretty risky.” Tweek rambled, lightly tugging on her tousled blonde hair.

  Cartman shouting a protest of, “hey,” at the insult directed at him.

  I observed Tweek's frigid movements momentarily before I glanced back over towards the awaiting boys, considering what I should do. Even though I didn’t care to do favors for the group didn’t mean I was a complete heartless fucker.

  “Fine, where is he?

  Only Buttes lit up in excitement, appreciative of my relenting answer. The others seemed surprised if anything, with Cartman crossing his arms over his larger chest with a scowl.

  “He snuck through this window into the men’s room and was planning to slip into the VIP room." Kyle explained.

  I took a long glance at everyone around me instantly rethinking my decision.

  Why the fuck did I agree to their shit honestly. Maybe I’m the one who fucks myself over the most.

  I could feel Tweek’s gaze on me, as he shuddered. I looked to him to watch give me a sympathetic expression. Him and I both knew the idea was stupid. He was one to panic for all the possibilities and I was the one who never cared to get into situations that would result negatively.

  “How did he sneak in?” I inquired.

  I brought my hand up to my head and balled my reliant blue hat into my palm. As much as I loved my dear chullo to shield my ears from the weather, I knew if I was going through with the plan I needed to look more mature than the hat made me.

  I removed it from my head and reluctantly handed it over to Tweek who extended his hand out in my direction, understanding my indication.

  I could feel my black hair sticking up in different directions, frizzy from the fabric rubbing against it. I pushed my hand down onto the locks to try and smooth it down. I knew my attempt was futile, but I still relented to at least try.

  “Through the window there.” Cartman muttered grumpily pointing towards the wall of the club.

  Above the large green trash can leaned against the whole held a small  golden, square window. It was left partially open due to Kenny’s entrance most likely.

  I slowly nodded before giving Tweek a half assed reassuring smile. I didn't want him to panic over me, because I knew I'd be fine. It was the trouble of finding the other guy in the hall of whores which was going to suck.

  I gripped onto the black metal lid of the garbage can, testing the sturdiness of the material. With one swift movement, I pulled my lower body up to clamber on the surface.

  It took a few seconds for me to regain my composure. Once I did, I walked slowly towards the brick wall with my arms out to balance.

  I wasn't the most graceful ballerina of the bunch, but I sure as hell wasn't risking tripping and busting my ass for any of those dicks.

  Once I reached the edge I stretched my arms up to the painted sill of the window and gripped it tightly. The hardest part was lifting my lanky body through the high and narrow window.

  “Thank ya for doing this.” A soft voice called out from below, causing me to whip my head around to catch who had spoken.

  “I'm sure Ken needs the help.” Butters finished saying as I ignored him and continued my endeavor.

  I just wanted to get the job over with.

  I somehow managed to squeeze my shoulders through the opening followed by the rest of my body. I compacted myself into an upright possession somehow before I lost my handle on the frame and toppled over into the cramped bathroom.

  I was met face to face with the blue tile of the men's restroom as well as a foul odor filling my nostrils. Some sort of liquid substance was covering the floor in what I only prayed was clean water as I sat up to view my surroundings.

  There was a gruff looking man huddled over one of the beaten up urinals beside the one stall in the bathroom. He was bald, buff, and covered with body hair. The fact I didn’t shit myself at the sight of him was the only indicator that I could survive my mission.

  He seemed to not have noticed my presence thankfully, so I continued skimming the dingy room.

  The stall door was open slightly revealing a toilet overflowing with shitty dark water… literally. I couldn’t help but gag at the sight.

  The faded color of the walls were covered in writing of many different phrases and comments in sharpies. Most of which offering services with awful slogans that screamed an opportunity to get a STD _._

_Tina’s titjobs for ten bucks._

All slogans with contact information listed below them.

  I slowly pushed myself up by extending my knees. I tried to be as silent as I could to not gain the urinating man’s attention. My sneakers gave a small squelching sound as I stepped on the wet floor as I made my way out the door and into the main building itself.

  As I approached the revolving door I could already hear the load music vibrating the walls by just the volume. I could feel the shake of the bass rattle my heart in my chest.

  I did my best to clear my mind from overthinking my actions as I quickly pushed open the door. If I did let my mind wander, I probably would’ve retreated back through the window because I would have realized that me sacrificing myself wasn’t worth it.

  The second I walked into the dark carpeted main floor I wasn't sure what hit me first, the sight or the smell.

  The thick scent of many bodily fluids, cigarettes, and liquor flooded my nostrils. The smell being exactly what I would’ve expected, except I truly didn’t want to actually know what all three smelt like until it hit.

  Another strong smell was evident and I was completely certain where it originated from since I did grow up in Colorado: weed.

  I distinctly wrinkled my nose from disgust before my brain finally caught up to what I was seeing. The Friday night at the Peppermint Hippo was packed with a majority of the older male residents of the town drunk and high off their asses.

  They were draped over dark sofa chairs with holes of fabric poking out. Most of the customers I personally recognized and only made me want to throw up due to the fact those older men were watching the young women dancing around them with hungry gazes.

  There were several strippers strewn around the place in very provocative outfits which consisted of little to no cover at all. Until I noticed a few women without a top at all. One light skinned girl with gigantic tits hanging out freely caught my eye at first.

  I was very conflicted on what to think about the sight. Should I get a boner over that or no? She probably had implants to make her breasts stand as they did, but at the time they did look intizing. Yet she was another human being, and the tightening feeling in my jeans only created a hole of guilt in my chest. So I tore my eyes away quickly to look for my actual target.

  There was a large stage in the center of the room with a pole in which a woman was dancing with. Her inner knee held onto the metal tightly as she swung her body around it.

  I’d seen videos and movies of people pole dancing, but watching that blonde twist around it caused a lot of conflicted emotions to flood my stomach.

  There was a DJ table beside the stage with a crusty looking man in shades, which was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen. The whole room was dark with only bright fluorescent lights flashing around the vicinity.

  I searched around the room looking for the bright orange parka that I was very accustomed to seeing since the dumbass had been wearing it since pre school. Even despite his small stature, it had currently became almost a crop top for the boy.

  None of the men around were shown to be the boy I was looking for, so I knew he had to be somewhere else. I’d heard of club’s having private rooms for shows and other actions, but I was practically hoping that he wouldn’t be in such an… act. That would be even more awkward as it is, me being a fucking _social butterfly._

  I inhaled in all the courage I could to display an uninterested face as I walked passed many workers and drunk fools stumbling over their own feet to sit and watch the woman at the pole.

  The other side of the stage seemed to hold other doors and large drapes, so I began to walk in that direction to investigate.

  Over by the bar was a sign that read employees only and a curtain entry to what was labeled VIP room. I knew that behind the yellow barrier of that room either held Kenny getting the best Alabama special he wouldn’t forget for the longest time or another man getting the same services, although both would leave me scarred even more.

  I didn’t know whether I should sneak in or peek as to who was, but both options seemed pretty shitty as far as the outcome in my favor.

  With slight hesitation I slowly walked over to one of the bar stools to sit upon until I could figure out more about who was in there and what I could do to get Kenny the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

  I sat my ass down onto the uncomfortable chair with no back support. I had to hunch over my back and rest my elbows upon the counter top. I took a deep breath and let my mind finally regret agreeing to the bullshit idea.

  I didn’t even look that much older than everyone else. I had about the same amount of chin stubble as Stan, because I usually forgot and never cared to shave daily. My body and facial hair grew back like weeds.

  “What do you want to drink?”

  I looked up to the person above me who stood on the other side of the bar. It was a man with dark hair and a sharp jaw that screamed panty dropper. But his presence also screamed he could get me kicked out of there faster than I could even pray for help.

  “No thanks, don’t want anything.” I dismissed with a wave of my hand, hoping to waver unwanted attention.

  “Here I’ll mix you something on the house. I know being here for the first time can be a little intimidating with all the titties and asses shoved in your face. But after awhile you get the hang of it and it will help you get off to later at home, or the bathroom like some desperate fucks.” The bartender said.

  I only watched silently as he poured different bottles into a tall cup filled with ice. He took it in both hands and began to vigorously shake the mixture together before pouring it into a tall glass.

  He topped it off with sliced fruit and salt along the rim of the cup. Once he completed his creation, he slid it over in my direction.

  I wasn’t an expert on drinks since I’d only ever consumed beers occasionally, but I knew he’d made me some overpriced fancy beverage that I wasn’t even sure was worth the effort.

  I piqued an eyebrow in his direction at the colorful drink. He could have poured me a tiny glass of scotch and wasted less of his product on me.

  “Not many customers today, I need to get rid of some product before Randy Marsh raids our stock again,” He sighed as he poured himself a shot, chugging it down with one swift movement.

  “Usually the strippers aren’t that overwhelming to the straight dudes. It’s hilarious when the occasional gay man walks in and spazzes out hiding from all the twerking sessions. So you should be safe.” He said with a chuckle.

  I looked at him with an expression that hopefully said somewhere between an “I don’t care,” and “what the fuck.” It was probably a good mixture of both since those were the only faces I knew how to properly make. It beat wasting my voice to say either phrases.

  I reluctantly extended my arm for the glass before bringing it to my lips. I slowly tilted my head back as my tongue tasted the citrus salty flavor followed by the fruity taste of liquor.

  The taste of the strong alcohol made me grimace immediately. It was horribly strong compared to the bud lights I was used to, but I didn’t want the man to see me pussy out then get the indication I truly was underage.

  Despite my better judgement, I scrunched my nose and knocked the drink back hard so I could get it over with. It was nothing compared to what the bartender was consuming himself, but it was still very new to me. The after taste being similar to a strawberry cough syrup and rubbing alcohol.

  I nursed the slice of strawberry that was on the edge of the cup as I watched the VIP room entrance patiently. I was awaiting some sign that the teen I was searching for was behind the curtain. My questions being answered as a loud shout came from the hidden room.

  “What the fuck do you mean you don’t have the money, bitch?”

  And that was my cue to go save the bastard from being kneed in the nuts and my ticket out of the revolting place. It took every ounce of my willpower to maintain my focus on anything but the semi nude workers sashaying around.

  I stood up abruptly grabbing the bartender’s attention once again. I looked in his direction and gave him nod to convey my thanks for the drink before leaving to the anticipating private lounge.

  I wasn’t entirely sure if it would be Kenny as to who I’d interrupt. However, the indication of money being an issue was a large flag showing that it quite possibly was pertaining to him. When it came to money disagreements it usually revolved around the lower class income McCormick boy.

  The poor kid did have an occupation at the local City Wok, but he was practically raising his little sister in his parent’s absence. I had to respect at least that about him, since he did look really young himself. I couldn’t imagine having to take care of Tricia that much. I love the little rat, but that’s a lot of responsibility on someone’s shoulders.

  His preoccupation with earning money to assist his family helped him better himself and stay away from drinking and getting into other substances he feared.

Kenny had always turned down the offer of any alcoholic beverage for his own personal reasons revolving around how alcoholism ran in his veins.

  He made it known that he'd never willingly consume excessive amounts of beer or such because he was terrified of the addiction gene being passed down to him from his father. He knew how liquor tore his family apart and traumatized his siblings along with him.

  Marsh was unable to control his drinking sometimes for the exact reason, but Kenny still somehow had the willpower to sustain.

  I walked over to the entrance with a fast pace to quickly retrieve the boy and get the hell out of dodge.

  I did a quick one eighty to see if anyone was specifically watching what I was doing before I walked in. I didn’t want anyone getting any weird ideas especially since some of the desperate bastards knew my family and I personally. Thankfully most of the men were drunk off their asses blissfully enjoying their smokes and the eye candy.

  After my once over I slowly peeled apart the drapery to peek into the area, trying not to look like a fucking creeper. I couldn't really affect that happening unfortunately.

  I was met with a sight similar to the main room as far as the choice of wall color and carpeting followed by luminescent purple and blue lights adding a forced sensual atmosphere.

  There were several hot pink duvet futons to lounge on and probably receive services that resulted in faded brown and white stains on the cushions.

  Upon one of the sofas in my line of vision revealed my intended target. His signature parka was unzipped and his hood was surprisingly lowered to reveal his flushed face in embarrassment as the woman in front of him.

  She had long knappy hair that reached her lower breasts which were exposed and slightly jiggling in front of his face. His blue eyes were glued onto her tinted nipples perked up in his direction.

  The stripper had very revealing black underwear and stockings. Her hands were defiantly perched upon her wide hips as she looked furious at the young boy.

  I took the opportunity to slide in unannounced to see what was up and to tell him it was time to leave already.

  I instinctively ran my fingers through my hair, confused about the lack of my safety blanket missing from atop my head. I then remembered that I had left it with Tweek before.

  “I need my mother fucking money for the dance man. I told you a recording was going to cost extra.” She spat at him.

  Kenny’s eyes flickered between the women and the wall behind her nervously before looking behind her to find me. Recognition engulfing his features.

  “Oh Craig! Candy, look I’m sure my friend can help pay the difference.” He called out.

  As soon as he waved his hand for me to come to his aid, she immediately swung around to look at me. As soon as I saw her face, I noticed the woman was most likely in her early twenties, which was better than what I expected. I was anticipating a lady in her late thirties and was terrified of that outcome.

  “You better be able to pay the other $30. This motherfucker thought he could videotape a lap dance out of me and cheap out of the price.” The so called, Candy, stated.

  I had no clue what they wanted from me. I knew it was obviously money, but I sure as hell was not about to cough up that much for anyone.

  I glanced between the two of them awaiting my response. Uncertainty filled my veins as they seemingly stared through my soul.

  There was no way I could say no, because that result wasn’t going to be beneficial in either of our favors. Yet I wasn’t even sure how much money I had in my wallet. I didn’t have a goddamn job, so even if I did have cash I was not about to give it to her for a lap dance I didn’t even receive.

  “You know, I don’t have time for this bullshit. I’m getting security,” She announced impatiently.

  She went to reach for her bra as soon as I blurted, “fine,” as quickly as I could. I was definitely not about to get my ass kicked out of a place I wasn’t even old enough to be in. That was more dreadful than losing some money.

  I reached for the leather wallet in my back pocket to retrieve whatever amount I had. Within the large pocket behind my licence held two twenties.

  “Do you have change for a forty?” I asked holding out the amazing (note the sarcasm) Andrew Jackson.

  “Nope,” she said confidently, grabbing the money from my palm.

  She exited through the curtains I’d entered from and I was left alone with a seated blonde boy. He had a large mischievous grin revealing his gapped teeth and deep dimples.

  “Thanks for that, dude.”

  I only stared into his eyes, my mind filled with annoyance. I was cheated out of forty dollars for being at that location, but saved his ass. I knew very well he wouldn't pay me back even if I asked.

  “I'm only here because your friends wouldn't stop bitching about you. Especially Butters,” I said with a bland tone.

  He jumped up to face me. The blonde zipped up his orange jacket and fixed his hoodie to conceal part of his hair.

  He walked over with his bright smile never wavering.

  “Shit, I can't get both the men and women off of me,” he said with a crack of his voice going up in pitch.

  I rolled my eyes in his direction and turned to leave to retreat back home as soon as I could. Kenny followed suite beside me, waving his phone in front of my face.

  “At least I got the video and get the money from Cartman.”

  I wasn't going to be the one break it to him that the cost of the service itself probably was coming out of that bet money so he wouldn't even be making that much. Then I remembered that I was going to take 80% of his profits to get my money back from saving his ass.  
  “Shut the fuck up and let's get out of here so I can get my ass back to bed.” I spat, throwing open the curtains as the short boy followed behind eagerly.

  He only chuckled to himself as we once again took in the sight of strippers and the boom of pop music began to get louder .

  “Would you like me to join you in that bed?” He inquired.

  He was obviously joking, because he always tended to do so with sexual innuendos. Much to his dismay, the hormone induced boy was still currently a virgin.

  He had a fake inflated ego and an obsession with boobs.

  Instead of wasting my breath on responding to him, I flipped up my middle finger to indicate my thoughts.

  “I get it man, you already have Tweek sleeping with you,” he said with an interesting mix between a snort and scoff.

  In a literal context he was correct, but I understood what he was hinting towards. I chose to ignore him and leave my physical indicator of “fuck you” in his face.

  We walked past the view of the people strewn across the room, not attracting much attention. Despite Kenny flirtatiously skimming over the variety of women working.

  Once we reached the men's room, I pushed the door open violently. This time it was vacant besides the two of us who had entered.

  Kenny was pretty compliant on leaving. He placed his hands on the frame of the window before lifting his body up and kicking his feet through the exit.

 He slowly sat on the sill and assumingly began talking to the company outdoors. The boy was taking his sweet ass time, and I was not in the right mood to entertain his wishes.

   I walked up behind him and gave a hard shove at his back so he tumbled out the window. I could hear Butters shriek at his fallen friend, but I was too done with this shit to actually give a shit.

  The fallen blonde did a quick cry of, “Aw shit dude,” as he hit the ground before us (Pft loser).

  I copied the blonde’s previous actions in leaving through the window. Except falling onto the asphalt ground of my own accord.

  I was met with the odd sight of Butters consoling Kenny with a hug and reassuring muttering. If anything I needed more consoling for my wounded wallet.

 “Fine, Kenny,” Cartman sighed elongating the “e” sound in the name. “You can have the money.”

  The wide boy pulled out a straight up fifty dollar bill which surprised me, since normal people usually didn't have the specific bill. Typically smaller bills to make up the sum.

   As soon as Kenny was going to take the money in his gloved hand, I actually _ran_ up and swiped it from Cartman’s grubby palm.

  They both gave a whine of disapproval and the fat one yelled a profanity at my sake. Stan and Kyle only laughed in amusement at my actions as I confidently pocketed it.

   I walked over to Tweek who was standing to the side away from the rest. He held my hat in the same position as it was before I left. I knew at least he'd respect my valuable chullo.

  He extended it in my direction with a small smile on his pale face. I returned the soft gesture to show my thanks as I took the hat and placed it upon my hair.

  A sense of relief washed over me as the blue fabric brought me to a sense of ease.

  I decided it was my time to leave. I missed out on quality time with my new pet for a worthless endeavor that only earned me ten bucks.

  I  began heading on the route back home and Tweek followed back in agreement.

  As we began to round the corner on the journey back to my house, Butters came running around the corner.

  “Thank ya, fellas. I really appreciate you checking on him and helping him out.” He announced with a genuine smile.

  Tweek only fidgeted silently beside me since the thanks was directed at me. Usually he wasn't so quiet.

  “Yeah, it's whatever.” I said softening my features the best I could. I didn't want to seem happy of his appreciativeness, but I knew he was being kind.

  After my response, he scurried off back to the group of friends still standing in the alleyway.

  Tweek and I began our path once more, silently beside each other as the snow began to flutter slowly around us and onto the damp sidewalk. It would soon get slippery if the temperature dropped any lower.

  “Why are you so quiet?” I inquired.

  He paused for a minute in perhaps thought, but continued our slow pace.

  After slight hesitation he spoke, “Do you think Butters likes Kenny?”

  What did he mean? Of course he did they were always hanging out and embracing each other like close friends. Similar to how Kyle and Stan always acted together.

  “Yeah, they're close friends.” I retorted offhandedly.

  “No I mean does he like… _like_ Kenny?”

  I tossed over a look of confusion in Tweek’s direction. If he was intending an attraction way then I wasn't sure how to respond.

  How could Butters be gay? I mean I guess we've all questioned it but like… for Kenny?

  “But he’s always been like _entranced_ by pictures of boobs.” I retorted.

  The whole thing didn't make sense. What was wrong with being close to a guy friend? Sure Butters did act weird about Kenny, but he acted similar with most of his friends.

  Tweek looked at me, studying my face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, until he averted his eyes.

  “I don't know man, but I think there may be something more between them.”

  The rest of the walk was relatively quiet despite the blonde’s occasional awkward tension squeaks and fidgets. I wasn’t sure of what much there was to say. What do you even say when you suspect one of your childhood friends is gay?

  It’s a slap in the face even if it’s suspected. Especially being gay conservative peckerwood town. Like what would people think if Butters actually started dating someone. Much less Kenny who was apart of a popular clique at school as it was. The religious old fashioned people would have a fit as well as Cartman, since he was the biggest bigot of them all.

  I decided that the thought wasn’t worth my time and I let it drop with the tension.

  When we finally made it home, I threw open the door for the two of us. I had no clue why I hadn't taken my truck and decided to walk in the first place. The whole idea escaped my mind.

  As soon as I closed the door behind us, my dad looked at us skeptically, probably going to talk about something I wouldn't care to answer.

  “Where have you two been?” He asked seated in the couch beside my resting mother.

  Not wanting to deal with him I flipped him my favorite finger and ran upstairs alongside Tweek. I threw open my door and slammed it behind me, earning an inaudible shout at me from Tricia in her room. Somewhere along the lines of “shut up.” As well as my dad hollering a remark from downstairs.

  Once I had returned to the sweet confines of my familiar room I tossed my converse off and unbuckled my belt. I loosened it and pulled it out the strings. I tossed it aside to my laundry pile in the corner followed by the pair of form fitting jeans I was wearing.

  Once I was left in my briefs, I removed my jacket quickly as well and my hat. I sat those carefully on the chair by my desk.

  I caressed Stripe lightly on the head since I was nearby, and then jumped on to my plush comforter.

  Tweek only watched the scene unfold silently from the sideline until I was on the bed. Then he decided to lay beside me after removing his shoes.

  He remained in his school outfit despite bringing extra, for some reason. I didn't question it though. I decided to pass the fuck out and make up on much needed slumber.

  I could deal with thinking about possible homosexual friends and Tweek's wardrobe choices later. Both ideas unrelated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely cliche fic Kenny, anyone?? I mean he's still sexual but he looks young and is a virgin lmao
> 
> Basically this is another filler intro chapter, but the story line will soon pick up don't worry. Starts getting a bit mature here so warning.
> 
> Negative or positive feedback is always appreciated and welcomed. I'd love to hear your thoughts !


	4. Is There Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde's crazy bonding idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the summary of the fic to make it more appealing to the story, I hope it did the trick.
> 
> If you've made it this far, I'm in the process of removing the excessive amounts of the word "just" in this fic. Tomorrow I will tackle, "always." I apologize, that's just how I talk rip

**Chapter Track: Is There Somewhere by Halsey**

#  TWEEK

  The four of us were relaxed in Token’s bedroom, casually leaning back in our respective bean bags. After countless of visits by Craig and Clyde, he had decided to ask his parents to purchase a set of chairs for the company to reside in during visits.

  It was a set of four, each a primary color plus green. It was custom for Craig to take the blue, Clyde the red, Token the yellow, and I'm assuming any other visitors the green.

  That's why it always caused an empty feeling in my chest as if I didn't belong. I never came over enough times when I was younger to have my own designated seat, but I felt as if I was intruding to sit on the extra bag.

  Token continuously assured me that it wasn't a big deal, because only the two others practically lived out of his mansion with him so the space was always open.

  However, I couldn’t prevent my fingers from picking at the material of the bean bag beneath me. It was taking a strong sense of determination to keep myself from biting my fingers as my skittish thoughts overflowed.

  I usually restrained myself in the presence of others, because I knew it didn't appear very flattering. The whole process of my saliva running down from my thumbs as I tore the dead skin for crimson blood to peek out was disgusting to watch. I’d probably be revolting to see anyone else doing it.

  I watched with a concentrated gaze as the males around me discussed the events of the hectic night before.

  I wanted nothing more than to contribute in with the conversation, but I didn't have much to say seeing as I was the one who stayed back while Craig was the one to enter the scene. I was thankful for the fact entirely, but it made me seem oddly quiet in the situation.

  My thoughts brimming the back of my throat as my mind considered what I should say to add to the ongoing conversation.

 “Tell me again, you had to do what?”  Clyde asked.

  “So yesterday during Cartman’s bullshit of a ‘party’ he decided to dare Kenny to do some really _original_ wild stunt in the club. So Butters came over in hysterics and called Tweek and I over to go over and save the dickbag. I had to sneak in, and by sneak I mean fall in through the window, and save his desperate ass from getting in trouble. I had to sacrifice the last of my hard earned cash to get us out of there barely scarred. Then when we got back I stole the bet money from Cartman and walked off.”

  The noirette leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He appeared unamused as the other two members of the party erupted in very _manly_ giggles.

  Clyde was looking like he was having spasms by slapping everything in his reach. His laughter bordered on a full on pig snort. He inhaled harshly threw his nose causing a congested sputter of noise to come out as he gasped for breath.At that point I was seriously questioning if he was sane. Not that I was anywhere near that definition myself.

  Token was quite more calm in his reaction to Craig’s story telling. He was reclined back against the fabric of the seat and emitting a deep chuckle in amusement.

  “At least you got to see some titties though,” Clyde expressed.

  He cupped his hands against sweatshirt, referencing a set of breasts on his chest.

  You could always count on the brunette to bring the conversation back to something sexual about women.

  Token pulled back his fist and bumped it into Clyde's tricep lightly, but still with enough force that the other grunted and leaned over in the opposite direction.

  His pain caused a light chuckle come out of me. I seethed at the sound of my own laughter, a cringe causing my right eye to twitch. It was expected of my nervous tic, so I didn't even register that I did it. It was an action so natural to me.

  “There's more to life than sex, dumbass,” Token exclaimed with a knowing look.

  It wasn't an unpredictable comment from the wanna be womanizer, but annoying to say the least. We had to hear it from him and Kenny at school on a daily basis, so it did get pretty tiresome to listen to.

  “You're just saying that because you get laid.” Clyde huffed as he mimicked Craig's positions with crossed arms.

  His comment was a real eye opener. Token _rarely_ spoke about his relationship to us for proper reason.Just hearing that information stressed me out, Craig hardly cared to listen, and Clyde would get all puffy about the subject.

  Token and Nichole were the star couple of South Park High, there wasn't any issues or complaints to hear about their relationship. However behind closed doors was another story I'd only ever had to come to conclusions upon myself.

  “Oh Jesus! You two have actually done that?” I asked sheepishly.

  Dozens of seniors at our school have been having sex for years now, some even as early as middle school. Somehow the thought of one of those people being someone close to me was appalling. Like how, when, where?

  Curiosity was digging its way onto the tip of my tongue. I was doing my best to keep the mental image of the two doing the deed from entering my imagination. That part would have been horrible.

  “Well yeah. We have been dating for a long time now,” he sighed with a satisfied smirk.

  “Go dude, I didn't know if you had it in you. I always assumed you were a 'wait until marriage’ kind of guy.” Craig told him with a chuckle and a pat on the back.

  “Screw that, you guys haven't walked in on them in the middle of sex. That's a sight I almost want to forget.”

  Clyde made a dramatic gagging sound as he threw his head back to emphasize his point.

  “I love Nichole and her thick ass as much as the next girl, but she had our boy cuffed to the bed,” he said.

“Jesus Christ!” I hollered.

  My eyes flew open at the revelation. Why in the actual hell would that have happened? She'd always seemed as a sweet and intelligent girl to me, and she was known as a tranquil and sweet cheerleader to everyone else.

  Sure I'd had my suspicions but none of my assumptions involved any kind of kinky aspects.

  “Oh my God, Token. She has you even more whipped than I imagined.” Craig laughed with a rare appearance of humor pulling on the corners of his cheeks.

 “Shut up guys. This is why I never talk about this stuff.”

  “That’s a little… ack-wild though.” I said.

  “Ok, let’s play something.” Craig said, veering attention to a new subject.

  He stood up and made his way over the television shelf that held many game consoles and a fraction of Token’s vast majority game collection. His closet held the rest of the disks for any and all consoles that he chose to by.

Currently he only had the newest Nintendo, Xbox, and Playstation consoles setup directly below his large flat screen that took most the space of his wall parallel to his king size bed.

  A solemn feeling clenched my heart as I watched Craig skim over the variety of games that the richer of us had. Personally I only had access to the very few PC games I could get ahold of with saving my tips from the shop. Even then the list wasn’t that long since everything was so god damn expensive.

  Perhaps I was partially to blame. If I came over more then I wouldn’t feel so envious of his collection. I didn’t want to intrude on him and seem to only hang around the group for wealth related reasons.

  Everyone else did tend to either ignore my anxiety issues or outbursts, but the three of them always seemed to be calm with me and treat me normally despite the features I hated about myself.

  I appreciated it, but I always feared the day they’d have enough of me. That’s the real reason behind the majority of apprehension I had towards coming over or hanging out.

  “Let’s play the new game Token got, dude!” Clyde called out.

  “Whatever,” Craig replied opening the case and inserting the disk into the XBOX console.

  He grabbed the four wireless controllers and tossed each onto all of our laps. I had to swing my body around to face the television, as did a few of the others since we were previously turned toward each other.

  I wasn’t quite sure which game they were referencing, but I knew it had to be a first person shooter game. Those were the only games worth playing then.

  The noirette went back to the tv and turned that on along with the game. Then he sat on his blue bean bag beside me, and we began to play.

  We spent about an hour and a half hours later viciously attempting to slaughter either each other in an FFA. Token repeatedly wiping the floor with our asses.

  Each time Clyde had the lowest kill to death ratio he would stand up and scream, “fuck all you, assfaces,” and making sure to spit in our directions.

  I wasn’t entirely bad, but I didn’t mind losing in the rank between us. I wasn’t that experienced so I was fine with it. It was entertaining to watch the brunette get so worked up about his loss.

  The very few times Craig would beat Token as far as the mini leaderboard between us he would laugh as obnoxiously loud as he felt, bragging in our faces. He was always one to boast whenever he had something he cared about.

  He usually didn’t care enough to throw things in anyone’s faces, but when he did he deemed them very worth it to him.

   He threw his hands to sky and flashed us his middle fingers, announcing, “eat my ass!”

  After we cycled through the maps until the game became boring,we threw the controllers to the side and fell into the depth of the mundane hole of being without anything better to do.

  “Dudes, this is so fucking boring. It’s Spring of senior year, and all we do is waste our weekends playing video games. We’ve been doing this since elementary.” Clyde whined.

  He kicked his legs out in a slow pedal motion in order to imitate a tantrum.

  Token only laughed at his friend’s antics, as per usual, while Craig threw a glare over at the brunette. He squinted his eyes in distaste. We were all very aware of his opinions on useless shenanigans that usually occurred in our crazy town.

  “No fucking way man, I had enough adventure last night to last me the rest of the fucking year.”

  “Ack, come on, Craig. It wasn't that bad yesterday. And it- _nnnnngh,_ couldn't be so bad to do something fun for the first time in awhile.” I said.

  The noirette turned to me and began to squint his eyes at me. I could practically feel lasers shooting out of his green orbs and directly into mine.

  His gaze made my hands fidget in search a small task to distract the rapid heart beat in my chest. I reached out to pinch the overlapping hem on my jeans and run my thumb over the textured fabric.

  I didn't mind speaking my thoughts every now and then, because they were always scrambled in my head screaming for my voice to announce them. It was the reactions that got to me, and that I wanted to avoid.

  My eyes glanced between my actions of my fingers, Craig, and the other guys faces, looking for something to break the tension.

  “Fine assholes, what do you want to do?” He sighed in defeat.

  “It better not be anything we can get arrested for, Clyde. You know I can't mess up my records if I want to get into Ivy League.” Token said, despite adorning an amused smirk.

  The perverse teen’s face lit up, elated from the approval of his idea.

  “Ok, so I was thinking we all get matching tattoos. Like a permanent friendship bracelet.”

  The three of us all turned to look at him in sync. Token had a bewildered look on his face, Craig with the most deadpan expression in the world, and I looked as spooked as I always do.

  “What the actual fuck, man?” The blue clad male exclaimed.

  A tattoo? That is something I only imagined in hypotheticals. Permanently having ink on my skin was way too much to worry about.

  What if I didn't like how it turned out? What if it hurt like hell. Weren't they expensive?

  I'm sure we were all old enough minus Craig, who was still seventeen until May, so how would that even work without permission?

  We'd always been friends together, but they had other people in and out of their group. And I hardly ever spent a whole bunch of time out of school with them.

  Craig preferred to spend his weekends alone minus coming over to Token’s, and I've never been invited to much outside of school. So it felt so wrong to get matching tats with a group I wasn’t entirely even apart of.

  “That's way too much pressure!”

  “Okay, let's do it.” Token said.

  He stood up in the middle of all of us, surprising Craig and I that he had agreed with any plan Clyde had conjured up. That was very uncharacteristic of the rich boy.

  Token walked over to his dresser and grabbed his phone, wallet, and key ring.

  He threw a thumb in the direction of his bedroom door.

  “Well come on, I'd rather get this over with before he starts whining again. I bet he'll see the needles then pussy out.”

  Not that my parents really cared as to where I went as long as I was safe. Craig's would have freaked out, but of course he didn't even consider to tell them.

  Clyde didn't care to tell his dad, because he didn't want his single father to worry. And Token gave a quick wave to his parents at our departure.

  I had to quickly refill my thermos with the Black’s imported coffee beans from South America that tasted more expensive than my shoes before we scrambled in his vehicle to depart for the long trip.

  It turned out that Nichole had been planning to get some ink done herself, so that’s why her boyfriend wasn't as reluctant to the idea as I'd expected.

  We stopped by her house to pick her up to join our journey. She was left to sit in the front seat beside Token, and I was left in the middle of the back seat squished between the other two close friends.

  The exact idea of which I dreaded the day before after school. Since I wasn't accustomed to sitting with them in a car, I began to feel very uncomfortable squished between the two. The fact that it was four and a half hours round figure made my shaking increase.

  When Nichole entered the car, she gave a courteous wave and a bright smile. She was honestly a beautiful girl.

  She had short, thick curls that she wore slightly passed her shoulders. Her hair used to be placed into afro buns when she was younger before she outgrew the trend and began wearing it fluffy.

  Occasionally she also wore different meticulous braids that gave me headaches trying to figure out how she did them so tightly.

  She was the idea of sweet, perfect, intelligent, and the ideal girl that Token deserved. They were both kind to another, and laughed together like the world revolved around them.

  It was beautiful to watch. Minus Clyde’s pouting when they'd kiss and such in front of him.

     The nearest _quality_ tattoo parlor to South Park was in Denver, so we had to submit ourselves to a painstakingly two hour drive at eight at night.

  It wasn't too bad at first. Token and Nichole were chatting softly in the front of the car.

  Clyde was preoccupied on his phone, playing what appeared as an intense game of a mobile battle Royale game. I didn't entirely understand it, so I didn't spend too much watching him get passionate about shooting online players.

  I glanced over to Craig to see his head against the window as he looked straight into the back of the head rest that belonged to the driver seat.

  I felt awkward being the only one not on my phone, but I felt no need to be. The majority of the people who text me were already with me in person, and starting a conversation felt so improper to do in the moment.

  What could I say to any of them that wouldn't seem random and that I genuinely cared to ask?

  The only reason I was feeling so flustered and in need for an end to my anxious tendencies was because I forgot to bring my medicine with me over the weekend.

  Of course with my luck it was the most important component for me to bring, and I forgot it.

  Without it my ADD seemed to waver into the direction of detestable trembling and outbursts that I hated I couldn't control. The feeling of wanting to bust out the car into a sprint burned a fever in my chest. I knew it would only get worse if I didn't have a distraction.

  Without much consideration, I extended my finger out and poked Craig harshly on the arm to grab his attention. I didn't intend for it to be so forceful, so I flinched my hand back muttering an apology so quiet I knew he couldn't hear it.

  His eyes darted to me as he flinched his hand up in order to pause his music with the button of his earbuds. He slipped the plastic out of his right ear in order to hear me beside him.

  “What?”

  I stared at him and blinked a few times. When he looked at me with his apathetic gaze, my throat went dry. The fact I could never predict his emotional reaction to my words occasionally intimidated me, except when I knew he was in a light hearted mood. Noted by when he used nicknames for me.

  “Ug-uh will Stripe be okay without us? The lady said he needs a lot of affection since we didn't buy a pair of them.” I blurted perhaps too quickly.

  “Nah, Tricia saw him and practically adopted him from us. I'm sure she'll take good care of him when we aren't there.”

  That idea seemed perfectly fine, even though we both bought the pet on the basis of providing a solution to Craig's solitude. If he was going to be alone, then at least he'd have a small companion.

  Ironically it seemed him open up a bit more up at least to me recently since we had shared custody of the pet. That and since we’d bought him we hadn’t had enough necessary bonding time with the rodent.

  I gave a slight nod in acknowledgement, unsure how to respond. Even if I did reply I’d probably mess my words up or stutter like the mess I am.

  After the long strenuous hours of the car ride, we finally arrived to see the vivid lights of Denver Ink. The blinding orange and red lights shone brightly in contrast to the dark night skies, making me blink repeatedly to ad   to the lights.

  We tumbled out the car orderly, besides me who took half a minute to contemplate whether to exit out the left or right doors. I scooched my tall body closer to the side Craig exited from, and Clyde closed the opposite door behind him.

  I walked behind the four others to the entrance of the store. The walls were large clear windows that revealed the large shop surprisingly filled with quite a few people at the late hour.

  The inner opaque walls of the building were littered with frames of artwork and tattoo sketches. I could see many stations and dark benches across the room with a couple of employees stationed at different work areas.

  As Token held open the glass door for us to all walk in, we were met with a women with long dark hair behind the counter. Her exposed chest, arms, and bare midriff were cluttered with detailed grayscale and colorful tattoo pieces.

  For being a bit past ten o’clock the woman seemed pretty enthusiastic, perhaps at the fact five potential clients walked in.

  “Welcome, what can we help you with today?” She asked with a bright smile.

  Nichole laced her left hand into Token’s as they stood up close to the counter.

  “I’d like a tattoo on my ankle of a butterfly, please.” Nichole announced softly.

  The woman gave a nod and gestured her over towards the other side of the wall that contained a table with multiple books of images of already drawn tattoo ideas.

  Token stayed behind to form a circle with the rest of us. We all looked at Clyde awaiting his outburst that was inevitable due to his puffed out cheeks and anxious attitude.

  “Okay guys, so I had this idea of getting aliens on our chest. Not like some huge picture, of course, but like a little emoji sized shape of a head of an alien. Since we all come from a fucking weird ass town, it will be symbolic. Like as to no matter how far we leave after high school, we’ll always have our ties back to our small mountain town and our misfit friend group.” He blurted all in two single breaths.

  We all stared at him blankly in concentration. The idea made sense in theory, but was an outrageous one in practice.

  “A fucking alien, Clyde?” Craig exclaimed with raised brows, “if you’re going to force me to get inked why should it be a fucking alien?”

  “C’mon Craig, he does have a point with the reasoning.” Token said with a shrug.

  It was left for me to add my input.

  “But guys won’t it hurt? And Jesus Christ, it’s permanent! What if ten years from now I want it removed, but I can’t because that’s impossible.” I sputtered, hands flying to my hair.

  I hastily laced the ends of my frizzy hair between my fingers and pulled. The action causing pain to strain my scalp. Gripping my disheveled blonde hair had become a coping mechanism of mine that made me later regret it when the throbbing sensation of a headache came.

  It was better than the bruising on my forehead when I used to smash my head on tables upon instinct, or the stinging of my peeling skin on my nails.

  “Relax, Tweek. We can get a small one, and it won’t be as bad as a crazy tattoo.” Clyde attempted to calm my nerves.

  I was still very apprehensive of the idea despite his words. My eyes shifted to Craig and Token’s in search of one of them to help me get out of the situation or to disclude specifically me if needed.

  The noirette turned to Clyde who was still beaming with eagerness. They had an passive aggressive battle of positive and negative attitudes before Craig’s unsurprisingly caved.

  “Whatever, fuck it and fuck you dude.”

  He had finally succumbed to a shrug of his own. Having nothing to lose after trying to display his stoic behavior, even though he usually went through with his best friend’s schemes despite the original fuss.

  “Well now that that’s settled, let’s get these bad boys.”

  It took about half an hour of image searching for Clyde’s ideal illustration he had in mind to be brought to life on four different sheets on transfer paper. It took about the same amount of time to sign wavers and show our ID’s to the lady at the front desk.

  Luckily she had assumed that Craig was the same age of the rest of us, since he covered his birth year with his thumb on his license.

  I hadn’t gotten my license myself exactly, since my parents never decided to buy me my own car. I only had a permit that I’d received in order to help my father on supply runs, so it was embarrassing to pull out that younger version of identification compared to the rest of the guys official driving licenses.

  After the paperwork was concluded, began the _fun_ part.

  It was unanimously decided that I would go last to go for apparent reasons.

  While Clyde was first in since it was his original idea. During the whole lengthy prep process he babbled on about how it wouldn’t hurt so bad since it was a basic design.

  We all listened quietly as he talked on and on about how prepared he was and how excited he was about becoming connected to each other on a spiritual level.

  Ironically, the second the needle hovered over his chest, the anticipated whining and crying came flowing as we expected. Clyde was all too sensitive when it came to even the simplest things. Much less a pigmented needle puncturing his skin.

  The entirety of the crocodile tears as the two inch outline of the silhouette of the ink transferred onto his skin from the stencil made my panic levels rise about the pain. Even though the current victim of the tattoo was over dramatic, I knew without a doubt he definitely was feeling some sort of pain regardless.

  The sobs emitted from the brunette’s hoarse throat only worried me more. However, Token was having the laugh of his life. His snickers hysterically flew from his system over the pained boy. While Craig only found more reasons to complain about the scene going on.

  Token was second to go, and he was unsurprisingly calm. He took the tedious process in stride, proud that he didn’t freak out like the boy before him.

  He sat contently on the chair, repeating the teasing words of , “Oh this isn’t so bad, Clyde,” and, “you’re such a baby.” The needle grazed his skin in the hands of the buzzcut man named Lip.

  Once the piece was finished, we all couldn’t help but let out spurts of laughter at the result. The image of the tattoo looked pleasant yet funny for the fact the appearance of the lines with smudged blood only seemed to blend into his dark tinted skin. While Clyde’s stood out with contrast on the brunette’s light skin.

  He wasn’t as dark as the ink, but for some reason it look almost entirely different on Token.

  As my turn drew closer and closer, my stress levels only grew as the clock ticked on.

  When it was Craig’s turn, the tattoo artist spent about five minutes alone shaving the hispanic’s hairy chest before placing the stencil on his bare chest.

  As his wool was being shaved off, the noirette’s eyes bore holes into Clyde’s face. The brunette's face was red with puffed cheeks as he utilized all of his self-control to contain the jeering remarks.

  He was very aware that if he muttered a single thing, Craig would have ruined his life and his will to live.

  I tried my best to ignore the confusing feeling in my mind at each time someone removed their shirt in order to get the art placed. I dismissed the feeling as the fear of me having to take my top off myself. Token had a fit figure, Clyde was slightly full figured, and Craig was skinny yet not at the point of looking sick.

  Whereas I wasn’t the lightest in the group, but for some reason in comparison to them, my skin looked an ill shade of pale. That only made my rib indentations to appear more prevalent than Craig’s under his tinted skin.

  The outcome of the Peruvian’s masterpiece looked absolutely sick, with only occasional grunts emitting from him. Well sick in the positive way, not like my naked chest way. The black lines seemed to shimmer and look so interesting despite the weird subject matter.

  I thought the alluring product would calm my nervous system and give it confidence to prepare for my turn. Unfortunately, I became a nervous system instead.

  “Relax, Coffee Bean, it’s not that bad,” Craig reassured me while putting his shirt back on.

  The tattooist swiveled around in his chair and scooted to his desk to retrieve the essential materials before performing my tattoo.

  Clyde and Token had retreated to the waiting room together, catching up with Nichole afterwards. I was sure Craig would have followed suite, but after he shimmied his coat over his head he watched me with stern eyes.

  “Man, I don’t think I can do this,” I mumbled, nervously gazing all around the room searching for an excuse to leave.

  My heart race pounded so loudly I could hear my pulse through my ears. Despite the steady metronome of each beat per minute, a buzzing sound consumed my ear drums in a manner screaming for me to run.

  Every muscle in my body begging to fleet from the situation I had gotten myself into. I glanced down to my fingers and realized the I had been squeezing each of my finger nails of my right hand repeatedly with my thumb and pointer finger of my left.

  It felt like one of my normal anxiety episodes felt, except louder… more powerful.

  I knew what was coming, an anxiety attack inching its way closer to consuming my mind and physical movements like a match to igniting gasoline.

  In most cases I dealt with the situation by running to solitude and curling up into a hyperventilating ball, but it seemed improbable to do so at the current moment.

  Most my anxiety attacks occurred during social situations at work or at home when I was facing the piles of homework I felt I had no control over. Occasionally the nasua hitting during overwhelming situations, but none of which in front of the guys.

  If I backed out, they’d be devastated and probably pissed. We had all agreed to this anyways. They’d get upset and think I was overreacting. It would go would go south both if I bailed and if I stayed.

  Why was I even getting a tattoo? Why did I agree to it? I had no control over the permanence of the symbol.

  What if my parents found out I’d agreed to it? What if I can’t get a job because of it? Can you donate body parts if you have tattoos? Doesn’t it like poison your system or something?

   Just breathe…just.... breathe.

  I keep repeating the command to my lungs to disperse my static mind, but my lungs refused to slow down the process of respiration. My surroundings fading to the emotion I _hated_ I couldn’t control.

  “ _Tweek,_ chill. It’s just a little picture on your skin, if you don't like it by next week then I’ll come with you to get it removed or whatever they fuck they do to get it to disappear.”

  Craig, Craig is speaking to me.

  I quickly glanced up into his emerald eyes, as my adrenaline immediately caused me to flinch away from his suddenly apparent palms laid upon my shoulders.

  His voice pulling me out of the dark void of my mind assisted in allowing my breathing to finally begin to slow towards reaching a level of sanity.

  He was right. If I didn’t like it, I could get it removed or cover it. Right?

  “Remove your shirt,” the artist commanded as he scooched his way back over towards the bench.

  It was such an odd thing to hear especially from a stranger. I knew what he meant though after observing the other’s get their tats, but I still had a lot of hesitance as I was still returning from my panicked episode.

  Craig slowly removed his hands from my shoulders, remaining a blank expression. He walked over to one of the few extra chairs in the room and lounged back on it.

  Part of me was surprised he had chosen to stay with me, but nonetheless I was grateful. Especially since he helped calm the adrenaline running through my veins in fear.

  I clenched my fingers under the hem of my button up and removed it over my head with trembling fingers. Undoing and redoing the buttons usually took too long to do, so I normally chose to remove it the complicated way in order to save time. That’s how I washed them anyways, so it wasn’t much of a struggle.

  I draped the piece of clothing over my forearm and took the seat in the middle of the workspace and then the session began.

  I reclined back as far as I could in the awkward positioned plush seat. The man doing the task sat to my left, as he disinfected and shaved the peach fuzz on the left section of my chest where the rest had received their ink.

  Once has done, he placed the stencil above my nipple with his awkwardly cold gloved hands. He then applied pressure with some material for several minutes before removing it and peeling back the transfer.

  I stayed quiet, glancing between the man’s dark eyes and the blinding LED light above us. It was one of those uncomfortable times where you don’t know where to look with someone above you. Like being under the attention of the dentist or a teacher in the classroom. Are you supposed to look them in the eyes or somewhere else?

  Eventually when it finally came time for him to retrieve the needle the panic built up in my chest for the third time that day.

  “What does it feel like, Craig?” I called out hesitantly.

  It took a few seconds for him to respond, so I began to doubt if he would at all.

  “Like a piece of wire being dragged across a bad sunburn.”

  “What the fuck! That’s not reassuring.” I exclaimed.

  I squirmed awkwardly in my chair as the man placed the needle an inch above my chest.

  “Don’t worry, breathe.”

  That’s all I remember before my vision blacked out.

* * *

 

  When light returned back into sight, I felt like I was waking up from a groggy nap. I saw Craig, Token, Clyde, and Nichole crowded around me, watching with intense eyes.

  “Woah dude, you’re okay.” Token called out noticing my blinking eyes.

  He patted my right arm twice before retracting it away.

  “You had us worried for a minute there,” Nichole smiled.

  I continued looking around the room to take in the view around me. I noticed the unfamiliar surroundings, so I tried to recall my recent memories to see why I could have appeared in a different place other than my comforting bedroom.

  I remember waking up at Craig’s last night, spending the day watching Netflix, playing video games, and then going to Token’s. Then Clyde proposed the idea of getting tattoos. Oh.

  That’s when I finally took notice of the two by two inch alien image below my collarbone. It matched the ink on my fellow friend’s chest but it felt so foreign on my practically translucent skin.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  “Relax, it looks sweet.” Clyde called out with a grin, lifting his shirt to reveal his matching tattoo.

  That revelation didn’t make me feel any better at all.

  “Here, tell me what you think.” The tattoo artist said as he placed a hand held mirror in my palm.

  I saw the emoticon black outline of the alien staring back at me with the same blank eyes I wore. Upon seeing the actual version, I realized it didn’t look all that bad. It was simple and nice.

  “I-it’s fine.”

  At my confirmation, the man placed a plastic cover over our irritated areas of skin. He gave us small pamphlets on how to take care of our new ink such as how we have to wash our skin once we got home. That and a lengthy list of what we had to avoid for a specific amount of time as the tattoo healed.

  We all grabbed our items and I clothed myself soon after, getting my arms stuck through the head hole. It took me about five minutes of struggling before I caught up to the rest at the register.

  “Dude, I will pay for Nichole and I’s tattoos, but you three have to pay for yourselves.” Token said.

  He pulled out his wallet to cover the specified amount shown on the receipt.

  I didn't even want to look at the triple, possibly quadruple numbers. I had never gotten a tattoo, so it was probably really dumb of me to avoid looking at the prices beforehand.

  I had no clue about the others, but I was flat out broke from buying the guinea pig. I wouldn't even begin to remake my small increase of tips until Monday when I went back to work.

  Perhaps I was worrying about the wrong things earlier. I should have been worrying about the expensive ticket afterwards. The 56 cents in my pocket was not going to cover it.

  “Oh shit- nnnrgh. I'm broke.” I said

  I began rubbing my palm against my left forearm feeling smaller than my body.

  “Dude, me too. I only have about ten bucks left. We spent all our cash to buy an expensive ass guinea pig the other day.” Craig sighed.

  He ran his fingers through the tufts of his dark hair that peeked from under his hat.

  Clyde only looked at Token with his signature puppy eyes he wore when it came to paying anywhere.

  The look that Token could read with his eyes closed.

  “Goddammit you guys. Especially you, Clyde, I know you have money.” The dark hair teen sighed.

  His girlfriend placed her hand on Token’s back and rubbed it with a gentle smile.

  “It's okay, honey. It's not the much for the small tattoo. I can pay for mine, and you can pay for everyone else’s.” She said softly.

  Nichole _never_ seemed to get upset no matter what was said or happened. She was the calm that balanced the craziness that her partner got pulled into, mostly created by Clyde.

  It was hearing them call each other pet names sounded so off to my ears. The sound of any cliche nickname based on sweets or some other overused name made me cringe.

  I knew they both meant endearment in the words, but it was so awkward to hear. Like it faded the purpose of using the name in the first place.

  “Thank you, Token” Clyde called out, extending the last consonant for a solid three extra seconds.

  “Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled, grabbing our tickets laid upon the counter.

  Token pulled out his debit card from his wallet and inserted the chip into the card reader.

  I felt pretty bad that he paid my part, but I couldn't do much to help. To my knowledge, I don’t think minded buying his friends things from time to time, as long as he wasn't used solely for his money. That’s what Craig had disclosed to me anyways.

  The high bills tended to fall on the darker skinned boy’s shoulders.

  After the couple finished paying their parts of the price, we turned to leave through the glass doors mildly content at the fact that at least the brunette was no longer whining but babbling happily over our new tats.   

  “Thanks guys! Now we can move onto our next adventure.” The brunette announced with his classic mischievous tone of voice.

  We all turned to look at him with blank expressions, and it was me who spoke up first.

  “Fuck no,” I said beating Craig’s typical dismissal to the latter’s ideas.

  The noirette gave me a large lopsided grin of approval showing his crooked teeth.

  Even if I didn’t hang out with all of them all the time out of school I now had a permanent symbol and comprehension of everyone’s role in the group.

  Who knows what else they normally did without me there if they so easily up and left to get a tattoo. That and buying a new guinea pig was enough to satisfy my fun meter for time to come.

  Adventure was overrated anyways. It was more about the people who made you feel you were on the ride of life without having to spend much money along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every two weeks (every other weekend/monday).
> 
> I don't want this to turn into a boring high school fic but I also don't want to go overboard with adventures. Tell me what you think though, so I can try and plan this story out to entertain you all.
> 
> Btw I do hella research for these chapters, so if you enjoy it please leave a kudo or comment so I know what I can approve upon or what I'm doing well. :)


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